Petals
by Amy11
Summary: Years into the future, after the Hellmouth has closed, a new evil in Sunnydale brings together old friends.
1. Prologue

Prologue:  
  
  
It was the second time that the town of Sunnydale had ever received snow.   
Perhaps it was sent as a sign of sorrow for the one that was lost. Or maybe   
it was just a rare and sad occurrence, covering the land in soft blankets of   
white. It didn't really matter, they supposed.   
  
It was fitting that it should snow on a day like this.   
  
They were all there. The group of friends so tightly intertwined throughout   
their lives; their hearts and souls and tears and smiles connected for the   
centuries past and the centuries to come. Their spirits would be linked for   
the years to come, their friendships only read about and revered among the   
few selected. They would forever be known as the Chosen.   
  
Giles, the Watcher. The one who had been chosen for the one girl in all the   
world with the powers to help mankind. The father to them all, the one they   
could expect guidance and support from whenever necessary, the one who would   
stand by them no matter what, his love, however hidden or veiled, for each of   
the children leading him through life, showing him what the right words to   
say were, or when to remain silent. And he did love them.   
  
Buffy, the Slayer. The one girl who had been chosen to stop the forces of   
evil, the guardian they all relied upon to keep their lives safe, the one   
that they loved dearly for trusting them all with her secret, for letting   
them help when they had no business with the nightly dangers that she did.   
The beautiful blond girl who had more strength that ten full grown men, but   
who had a heart that could be broken, time and again. A girl who had seen   
too much tragedy, but didn't let herself become hardened by it, didn't let   
herself pull away from them.   
  
Willow, the witch. The dear Abby among them, the one who they all knew would   
listen, and comfort, and let her shoulder become tear-soaked if it would help   
one of her friends. The one who fell in love with magick, and used it to   
help the Slayer, to fight the darkness. The one who was modestly brilliant   
and quietly beautiful in her own right, who would put her heart on the line   
to open herself up to a new friend.   
  
Xander, the friend. He was perhaps the most loyal of all, not willing to lose   
a friend over any fight, any demon, any danger. The one who could make them   
laugh, when all they wished to do was cry, the one with a hidden strength   
that was almost never noticed or accounted for. He was the solider, and they   
were part of his troop, the most valued part to him, the people he fought   
for, the only ones that mattered. The one who would stand up for each of   
them, no matter what the issue, even if they were wrong.   
  
Cordelia, the princess. The one who professed to hate the life that her   
friends had gotten her into, who pretended to be disgusted by the thousand   
nightly horrors she witnessed, but who was really touched, deep down, that   
she had such friends; friends who would make her a part of something so   
important, so vital. The one who secretly enjoyed the nights of fighting,   
who silently loved her friends in a way that could never be expressed.   
  
Oz, the werewolf. The one who was dry and quiet, but could be counted on   
when it was needed. The one who had unlimited faith in the girl he loved, in   
the friends who had become such a big part of his life, in the night that had   
cursed him. The one who stayed in control unless one of his friends was in   
danger, and then found a strength that he rarely used, and hardly knew   
existed, to help them.   
  
Angel, the vampire. The one who loved the Slayer with all of his soul, the   
soul that had been taken from him twice. The one who was willing to fight   
for any wrong to be righted, willing to die to prevent any injustice from   
happening. The one who treasured his friends for simply accepting him, for   
trusting him, for letting him trust them back. The one whose heart was   
scarred with love and hate and hundreds of years of transgressions. The one   
who worked for the redemption that he had already received among the group.   
  
They supposed that they had always silently known that this moment was   
coming, deep in their hearts. It was something that was inevitable,   
something that everything prior in their lives had been leading up to. The   
grief in the cold air was almost tangible, the tears almost freezing on their   
faces, their breath only ragged puffs of white.   
  
Though they had known it would happen someday, they hadn't been ready. They   
wouldn't reconcile themselves to the fact that one of them was gone. They   
couldn't accept that they would never see the warm eyes again, never again   
hear the voice that none of them would ever be able to forget.   
  
Six of them stood in a circle. They held hands tightly, as though afraid to   
let go, and they all stared ahead at the bouquet of roses that rested upon   
the wood.   
  
The petals were falling off; being blown away by the sharp wind.   
  
And the one that wasn't a part of the circle was just as quiet as they,   
laying the the coffin that was being lowered into the cold earth. 


	2. Buffy

~Buffy~   
  
  
When Giles called me over to his house, I just thought he wanted me to help   
him with something in the kitchen. He'd been cooking a lot lately, said that   
it was a 'good hobby to have,' and that it used to be a 'passion' of his. Or   
something like that. I sometimes never know what Giles is talking about.   
  
Anyway, I figured that something had exploded, because he sounded frantic.   
But, much to my surprise, the Hellmouth was rearing its ugly, and I thought   
buried, head again.   
  
"Wait a second," I said, effectively stopping his rambling speech, "Vampires?   
A group of them? I mean, sure, a vampire here and there-- they still exist   
after all. But we haven't seen this much vampire activity since the   
Hellmouth closed four years ago. I thought for good."   
  
"Well, ah, yes." That was when he took his glasses off, and I got *really*   
nervous. "B-But it isn't as though we've never faced anything like this   
before. You've averted the apocalypse several times."   
  
"Apocalypse?!" I shouted. "Now we're talking apocalypse?"   
  
"Buffy, you're the longest lived Slayer in history. This isn't something we   
can't handle," he said, polishing his glasses with that handkerchief.   
  
It wandered through my mind to ask how old that particular handkerchief was,   
as I had been seeing it since I was sixteen, but I shook off the thought and   
stared at him, trying to be as intimidating as I could.   
  
"Okay. So what *exactly* is it?" I asked, my hands on my hips.   
  
Giles sighed. "It's... They're... A group of the Old Ones, as they call   
themselves, has banned together. It's written of in the Codex. I wasn't   
expecting this... Well, in our lifetimes, but, with the Hellmouth..." He put   
his glasses back on. "Perhaps I read it wrong all of those years ago. I   
blame myself for not being fully prepared for this. Had I... Had I been   
acting as a Watcher, even through this- this lull we've been having.."   
  
"A four year lull?" I broke in.   
  
He shrugged. "Had I been researching and looking for what was to come, I   
would have been able to better inform you of this. I am sorry."   
  
"Giles, don't be sorry. Be... Giles. Do the stuff you used to do." I could   
already feel the muscles-- long underused stress muscles-- in my back   
tightening. I sank down onto his couch. "It's been so long. Since   
anything!"   
  
"I know, Buffy," he said softly. "I know. I've been up half the night since   
it was drawn to my attention. I'm so sorry."   
  
"Stop it!" I shouted. Then I glanced at him, and slumped, feeling terrible.   
He looked shocked and sad and like he had just lost his best friend. "Look,   
really. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's. I mean, I haven't been   
coming over here to train, have I? It's been, what, six months since I've   
even slain a vamp? Nobody could have expected this."   
  
"But I *should* have expected it," he said despondently.   
  
Suddenly, without knowing how I was put into the role, I was the comforter,   
not the comforted. It felt nice, though, to know that I could help him for a   
change, after all the years he spent helping me. I put my hand over his and   
squeezed it. "It's going to be all right," I assured him. My spine   
straightened, and a funny little tingle shot through my body, a tingle I   
hadn't felt in a long time. I smiled. "You're right. It's nothing we   
haven't faced. And I could really use a good fight."   
  
The ghost of a smile drifted over his face, and he touched my shoulder   
fondly. "Yes. The others are on their way. We'll..."   
  
"What others?"   
  
"The, um, Scooby Gang?" He looked at me a little hesitantly while using that   
phrase, the phrase that my friends and I had been saying since high school,   
and I had to stifle a laugh. I just loved Giles. "Xander and Willow,   
Cordelia, Oz, and.. ah..."   
  
"You invited Angel?" I asked, point-blank.   
  
Giles winced. "I did, yes. I thought that it might behoove us to use him in   
battle, if there is actually a battle...."   
  
"It's okay, Giles," I reassured him with a smile. I sort of wondered myself   
what it was going to be like. I hadn't seen him since... Had it been so long   
that I couldn't remember? No, when we closed the Hellmouth I remembered   
suddenly. I had been twenty-three, and he had still sent shivers down my   
spine. Would it be any different this time?   
  
Would it ever?   
  
Giles looked relieved. "Good. And, Buffy?"   
  
"What?"   
  
"I wasn't going to mention this, considering our new level of danger, but I   
can't turn off the oven. Someway, the knob has stuck," he said sheepishly.   
"It's set at four-hundred degrees."   
  
I laughed, getting up. "I'm on it."   
* * * * * * * *   
  
A half hour later, when everyone had arrived-- and the stove knob had been   
fixed-- we assembled in Giles's living room. I looked around, appreciating   
what I saw. It felt like old times. All of the sudden I was eighteen again.   
Willow and Oz were holding hands, Giles was looking through books, and   
Cordelia and Xander were bickering. Only Angel was missing, but I wasn't   
surprised.   
  
He always liked making a late entrance.   
  
I was filled with warmth as I looked at them. How could anyone be as loyal   
as they were? No matter what was happening, they were always there for me,   
always willing to lend time and strength and power and anything I needed to   
stop the world from ending. How many times had they gone without sleep for   
days, just to stay up and research the newest big bad in the dark? How many   
times had I leaned on them, literally and figuratively, after fighting a   
battle where I had been sure I would die?   
  
I smiled to myself.   
  
And then snapped back to attention, realizing that Giles had been talking for   
several minutes.   
  
"...Means that they're connected to the Old ways of vampires."   
  
"Oh, back when they still spelled vampire with a 'y'?" Xander cut in smoothly.   
  
Giles let a laugh bubble up in him for a moment but then, as he always did   
when the moment was serious and he had found something that Xander said   
amusing, he pushed it back down and glared a little bit, clearing his throat.   
"Yes. Their ways are different from the newer breeds of vampires. For   
instance, the lineage that they come from. Most of them are part of a... A   
very well bred family, I suppose one might say. And those that aren't, have   
the same beliefs."   
  
"What beliefs are those?" Willow piped up nervously.   
  
"Well, if you'll recall the first time I met you and Xander," Giles started,   
taking off his glasses again, "I explained that vampires are waiting for the   
human race to die out, waiting for the Old Ones to return. However, don't be   
confused that they call themselves the Old Ones. It's perhaps in homage to   
the ones that came before them. And... Their feeding patterns are different."   
  
"Be confused?" Cordelia rolled her eyes. "How could we *possibly* be   
confused?"   
  
Xander sighed, shaking his head and glaring at the ex-cheerleader. "How are   
their feeding patterns different?"   
  
"Well, they don't simply feed," Giles explained. "More often than not-- and   
by that I mean, at almost every single occasion where one of them requires   
blood-- they get to know their victims. And there's a ritual that they must   
perform before the final drinking of the blood. It has never been written   
of, however, only alluded to, so I can't be sure of what that ritual is."   
  
I shivered, feeling hot and cold all at once. The hair on the back of my   
neck stood up.   
  
Angel was here.   
  
"I might be able to help with that," he broke in.   
  
The group turned to look at him, and everyone fell silent for a moment as   
they looked from me to him and then back at me again, wondering how we would   
react to each other.   
  
I guess even I was wondering, considering that I didn't even get a chance to   
speak to him before he left the last time.   
  
"Hi, Angel."   
  
His eyes turned to me, and when his gaze was locked on mine, I felt like he   
had been avoiding looking at me before-- Like he had to have been, or else I   
would have felt the fear and passion and heat and power like this before. I   
drank him in with my eyes, hungry for years of moments without him in them,   
greedy for the taste of him and the feel of his skin under my palms.   
  
He cleared his throat, looking shaken. "Hi, Buffy."   
  
I let out a ragged breath, and then inhaled again, sucking at my lips.   
"So..." I cleared my throat too. "So you may be able to help with this?"   
  
He smiled slowly and I was even more rattled than before.   
  
I looked away as he began to speak. 


	3. Giles

~Giles~  
  
I wonder now what would have happened if that newspaper hadn't caught my eye,   
prompting me to begin a search among many musty books I hadn't thought to use   
in years. And later, even as I was berating myself for the foolish   
relaxation that had taken over my system, I was dialing the numbers that I   
knew by heart, almost automatically.   
  
I called Willow first, then Oz, then Xander, who had Cordelia staying with   
him. I told him to bring her. I paused for a moment and then called Angel,   
knowing intuitively that we would need him for whatever battle was coming,   
knowing that my concern was for Buffy and the other children's safety, not   
for the relationship that everyone still speculated about.   
  
Still, I worried about telling her. When I finally called Buffy, she sounded   
amused and resigned, almost patronizing, and I had to check myself when a   
smile tugged at my mouth. Now was no time to be getting amused. Surely she   
thought that my kitchen was on fire.   
  
When she arrived, I gathered my courage and slowly explained the extent of   
what I had learned. After her initial shock had passed, and she slipped into   
the ready girl I knew she always would be, I felt yet one more confession   
needing to be spoken.   
  
"The others are on their ways," I said hesitantly. "Xander and Willow,   
Cordelia, Oz, and... ah..." I couldn't seem to get his name past my lips.   
  
Her eyes were veiled, her expression shuttered. "You invited Angel?" she   
asked without preamble.   
  
I cringed at the tone in her voice; it was softer, almost as though she were   
that seventeen year old again, the one falling in love for the first time and   
experiencing her heartbreak. "I did, yes. I thought that it might behoove   
us to use him in battle, if there is actually a battle...."   
  
Her shoulders straightened then, and she was the strong, mature woman I had   
practically raised again. "It's okay, Giles." Her eyes contained a certain   
sadness that I didn't know how to respond to, but also a curiosity that I   
can't describe.   
  
Was she wondering about him?   
  
Why shouldn't she?   
* * * * * * * *   
  
Once most of the group was assembled, I outlined what I knew-- or, most of   
it. It wouldn't help anyone to tell them what wasn't yet certain, what none   
of us could decipher. They listened and nodded, hearing the words that I was   
saying, and yet still remaining in their own little worlds, some of them   
smiling occasionally, looking around the room.   
  
I had a hard time not doing that myself.   
  
It had been a long time between meetings; real ones, that is. A long time   
since we had all worked together on something so vital, so important. Buffy   
would argue that planning birthday parties was important, but this was   
different. We all could feel it in the air, the nostalgia. The memories of   
times past, the memories of saving the world and doing it together.   
  
I paused from speaking to clear my throat, but not for the reason they must   
have suspected. For a moment, I had been overwhelmed with a joy that I   
couldn't express, overwhelmed with a feeling of serenity that only these   
people could bring me.   
  
And then a moment later, that peace was taken away, and I knew why.   
  
I didn't blame him, but I knew that he was the cause of it.   
  
Angel had arrived.   
  
The tension was so thick, it seemed palpable, tangible. As we watched Buffy   
and Angel look at each other, several emotions flickering across their faces,   
we wondered what each of them was going to do. I saw sadness inside of   
Buffy, a deep pain, and also a hope that she would never admit resided within   
her heart. And in Angel, I felt as though he were seeing her as only a lover   
could, seeing her as though there were no danger of his soul being taken   
away. Each of them trembled slightly at the nearness of each other, but   
neither seemed to notice.   
  
Buffy finally broke the silence, her voice shaking. "Hi, Angel."   
  
He cleared his throat, obviously rattled at what had passed between them.   
"Hi, Buffy."   
  
"So... You may be able to help with this?" she asked, perhaps not realizing   
how uncertain her own voice was, how scared and small. She sucked her lower   
lip into her mouth, a nervous habit that I thought had been broken years ago.   
  
Apparently, I was wrong.   
  
A smile slid over Angel's face, and I glanced around to see that everyone   
else was holding their breath with mine. I was astonished at my surprise   
over the tension and the heat and uncertainty of them. I should have   
expected it.   
  
I *did* expect it.   
  
His eyes devoured her, and then he opened his mouth. I noticed Buffy   
shifting her eyes away from his face as he started to speak.   
  
"I don't know anything yet, really," he began. "But I'm sure that, given   
time, I would be able to find out. Now the only question is, how much time   
is there for me to do that?"   
  
The group pinned me with their gazes, and I shifted, feeling out of my   
element, though that was nonsense and I knew it. I shook my head at Angel.   
"A matter of days, I'm fairly sure. One week, perhaps. Possibly less."   
  
"Possibly?" Willow leaned forward. "How much less?"   
  
"I would say that we needed to be ready in five days' time," I said slowly.   
  
"Okay then, we have three days or two months." Xander grinned. "Giles has   
always been either early or late."   
  
I looked at him, and he smiled easily under my glare. I shook my head.   
"Xander may have a bit of a point," I muttered, swallowing a large dollop of   
my pride. "The sooner we are ready for action, the sooner we know what is   
going to happen, the better."   
  
"I'm a man with lots of points," Xander said smugly.   
  
Cordelia elbowed him. "Yes, on your head and in your pants."   
  
Angel cracked another smile, as Buffy and Willow snickered at the wounded   
expression on Xander's face.   
  
Was I right in saying it was like the past?   
  
If I had any doubts before, I certainly didn't then. 


	4. Willow

~Willow~   
  
  
It had been a long time since any of us had come up against something real.   
We weren't expecting it. But when we all got together in Giles's living room   
it was like... Perfection. Like we were all different parts of the same   
clock, totally attuned to one another, completed and working as we should   
have been.   
  
I looked around at all of us and was comforted by the sight and sounds that   
had accompanied me through most of high school and college. I saw every one   
of us, part of a puzzle, making the full picture.   
  
There were a thousand metaphors for what the seven of us were.   
  
But I especially watched Buffy.   
  
She seemed to tingle in her seat, almost like she was itching to get out   
there and fight. I knew that, how ever much she would deny it, deep down she   
missed the late nights of studying the evil and then slaying it. She missed   
the buzz that she got when she had won the fights against some of the more   
evil demons, missed the exhilaration of knowing that she was special.   
  
Not that she confessed any of that to me. I just knew.   
  
I knew because sometimes I missed all of those things as well. I think we   
all did. We were all special in a way, a way that no one but us knew about.   
I used to be a little sad at times, knowing that I was only one of maybe a   
dozen people who would know what the seven of us did, but gradually that very   
fact made the whole situation even more special to me. There was magick in   
the air that night; my whole body could feel it. It hummed underneath my   
skin, calling to me. I saw Giles shift in his chair and knew that he could   
feel it too.   
  
We didn't say anything, of course. Because how could we describe a feeling   
that was indescribable? Magick does that to you.   
  
And then Angel came, and the air was even more charged with energy than it   
had been before. Everyone noticed the look that passed between the Slayer   
and her vampire, and I felt sorry for Buffy; something that I hadn't done   
since the last time she had seen Angel.   
  
I held onto Oz's hand tightly, feeling luckier than I had in a long time. I   
sometimes took him, everything, for granted. Not in a way that made me   
selfish, I don't think... Just in a way that someone is likely to, when   
they've been with someone they've loved for years. He squeezed my hand back,   
and I smiled at the feel of his soft palm giving me strength, those hands   
that I loved.   
  
Finally Giles dismissed us for the night, and we each slowly left his   
apartment. As soon as we were outdoors, I turned to Oz.   
  
"It's sort of scary."   
  
He gave me his usual small, close mouthed smile that I loved. "A little."   
  
"And... exciting?" I ventured.   
  
He put his arm around my waist, pulling me closer as we walked to his van. I   
snuggled next to him, relieved at his next words. "A little."   
  
"Do you think that it's wrong that it's exciting?" I bit my lip. "Like,   
sort of disturbed?"   
  
Oz shrugged easily, opening the door for me. I got in and he went around,   
getting into the driver's side. He paused, thinking. "I don't think so. I   
think we were all feeling it in there, you know? Something different was   
happening, different and the same. I think it's normal-- or as normal as   
we're likely to get in Sunnydale-- that we're all... looking forward to what   
comes next."   
  
I smiled at him, reassured. A moment later I put my hand on his arm as he   
was about to pull away from the curb. "Wait."   
  
"What is it?"   
  
I didn't say anything; didn't have to. His eyes followed the direction that   
mine were in, and he turned off the van for a moment. We watched in silence   
as Buffy and Angel spoke in hushed tones in the middle of Giles's complex.   
My heard ached for her again as Angel put his hand on her arm and she   
flinched, too much pain and love showing in her eyes. His eyebrows were   
drawn, worried, and she slowly flashed a smile at whatever it was that he   
said next. Then she nodded, leaned up and gave him a small kiss on the   
cheek, and turned away. Angel went back into Giles's apartment.   
  
"I feel bad for her," I whispered. "For both of them."   
  
Oz nodded, patting my thigh. "I know you do, Baby. We all do."   
* * * * * * * *   
  
Oz and I made love like there wasn't going to be a tomorrow. Which... Maybe   
there wasn't going to be. We clung to each other and kissed and it held all   
of the wonder of our first time together, except it was even better, more   
familiar. Our skin was sticky with sweat when we were finished, and we lay   
in each other's arms for a long time. I looked out the window and sighed a   
little, glad that Oz wouldn't have to be a wolf again for nearly a month.   
  
I couldn't seem to stop touching him, letting myself be sure of him, sure   
that he was there and with me, and that the whole night-- my whole life-   
hadn't been a dream. After a while, his breath slowed and became steady, the   
sound of him sleeping, the sound I knew by heart.   
  
I slipped out of his arms and lifted the phone, dialing Buffy's.   
  
It answered on the first ring.   
  
I somehow knew she was still awake.   
  
"Hello?"   
  
"Hi," I said quietly, careful not to wake Oz. "I just wanted to call to...   
Well, are you okay?"   
  
There was a long silence, and when she spoke, her voice was sad. "Yes. No.   
I'm not really sure right now. I guess.... I guess parts of me are better   
than okay. It's not the fight thing, even though that's a little bit...   
nerve-wracking... It's--"   
  
"I know," I whispered.   
  
She laughed a little. "It's that obvious, is it?"   
  
"If a person was blind, they would see it," I said with a smile.   
  
For some reason, that made her laughter freeze and then die. "I guess. I   
just... Don't know what to do anymore, Will. It's like, before he left me, I   
didn't lack for anything to say to him, and now I don't either, but I feel   
sort of shaken everytime I look at him. I didn't used to have that, to feel   
that way. Even after he lost his soul, I didn't feel that way. But..."   
  
"It's been years," I pointed out logically. "Everything is going to hit you   
harder than you expected it to. That's okay, though, you know? Sometimes   
emotions are magnified when you haven't gotten to feel them in a long while."   
  
"Yeah," she said slowly, the word sounding a little hollow and worried.   
"Thanks."   
  
"Buffy?"   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"I... Saw you talking to him in the courtyard," I confessed. "What did he   
say? It looked kind of intense."   
  
"He just..." I heard her swallow. "He said things that made the whole   
situation even more confusing. It's hard to be around him, but I can't help   
wanting to. I still love him, you know."   
  
"I think I figured that out," I grinned.   
  
She laughed again, and then we disconnected. I sat there for a moment,   
hearing to the obvious change-in-subject that she had given me when I asked   
what was said, but it didn't bother me. Buffy would keep it secret for now,   
like she always did when something was too close to her heart to talk about,   
and later she would tell me if the time came up. I trusted that she trusted   
me that much.   
  
I slipped back into Oz's arms and pulled the blankets up around us, looking   
forward to and a little fearful of the days to come. 


	5. Xander

~Xander~   
  
  
  
Cordelia and I had been doing what we did best-- fighting and then making out   
like teenagers-- when we got the call. For a second, I was transported back   
to high school. It all felt a little surreal to me, hearing Giles say, "You   
have to come. Bring Cordelia. It's the Hellmouth," again for the first time   
in so long.   
  
The meeting was strange.   
  
After the meeting was stranger.   
  
Cordelia turned to me as Giles requested that we go home and rest up, and   
slipped her hand into mine. She looked a little lost and a lot frightened,   
and my ego flared up a bit as I realized that she was looking to me for   
support. I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close as we left   
Giles's apartment.   
  
"Are you all right?" I murmured as we got into my car.   
  
"Yeah." Her voice was shaky. "I'm just nervous, I guess. I haven't had a   
vision in a pretty long time... I sort of thought that part of my life was   
over with, you know? And then when Angel showed up tonight, I sort of felt   
panicked, like I was trapped," she confessed. "I sometimes want to be a part   
of all of this, really. But sometimes it scares me."   
  
I leaned over and kissed her. "It scares all of us, Cordy."   
  
"Oh, really?" She smirked. "Then why does Giles continue to tell us about   
it, if he knows we're going to be so scared?"   
  
"Maybe he just wants to keep us on our toes," I suggested.   
  
"You keep me on my toes enough," she said, and this time her voice was   
seductive. I arched one eyebrow at her-- I never understood why, but that   
always drove her crazy-- and she slowly drew her tongue over her bottom lip.   
I stifled a groan, and reached over, threading my fingers through hers. My   
thumb took on a mind of its own, massaging the back of her hand.   
  
"I like your toes," I whispered.   
  
The corner of her mouth curved up. "Want to rub my feet later?" she asked,   
drawing our joined hands in small circles on her thigh. The urge to groan   
was growing.   
  
"Yes, please."   
  
Suddenly she laughed. "I just love it when you beg to do things for me."   
  
I finally let go of the groan, only it came out more annoyed than turned on.   
I pulled my hand back from hers, putting it on the steering wheel, and   
looking straight ahead. "Shut up, Cordy."   
  
The sex was going to be great tonight.   
* * * * * * *   
  
After Cordelia fell asleep, my mind started wandering. I thought back to the   
time when I dated Anya, and one of her many comments came back to me.   
  
'You continue to associate with them, though you share little in common,' she   
had said at the time.   
  
But as I started thinking, I realized that maybe that wasn't true. Just   
because the group didn't all read the same books or love the same movies or   
music, or have the same goals (other than keeping the world from being   
destroyed), it didn't mean we had nothing in common. We had a lot in common.   
  
We had each other in common.   
  
I would die for any one of them, and I know they would die for me. Maybe   
under normal circumstances, none of us would have become friends-- not   
really-- but we didn't get to know each other under normal circumstances. So   
we did become friends. We became the most important people in the world to   
each other. At least, that's the way I saw it.   
  
I idly twisted a strand of Cordelia's silky hair around my finger and yawned.   
I leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, surprised when she stirred and   
her eyes opened. She usually slept like a log.   
  
"Xander?"   
  
"Sorry," I whispered. "I couldn't sleep."   
  
"I love you."   
  
My mouth dropped open. "What?"   
  
We had dated for exactly a year in high school. And we gotten back together   
over a year ago, through some very lucky correspondence. And deep down, I   
knew how we felt about each other, knew everything that we were hiding from   
one another with our snide remarks and cutting comebacks. I knew I loved   
her. I knew she loved me.   
  
I just... had never heard her say it.   
  
"I love you," she repeated, and I was even more surprised. Her eyes locked   
on mine; that deep, coffee brown, reached in and caught me, measuring me up,   
almost as if she was scared about what I was going to say to her confession.   
  
I lifted my finger to trace it over her jaw, her cheekbone, her mouth. My   
heart was racing, my blood pumping. "I love you too."   
  
"You do?"   
  
"Yes," I said, not needing to hesitate.   
  
"Good." Her eyes slipped shut again, then, and I was deprived of that   
beautiful color, but she snuggled closer to me, reaching around and placing   
her palms firmly against the small of my back. "Don't ever leave me, okay?"   
  
"I promise."   
  
She nodded definitively against my chest, and then was silent and still.   
  
I knew I would wonder in the morning if it had been a dream. I knew that we   
would fall back into old habits, and the tenderness between us would go back   
into hiding, to only come out occasionally, while we were making love or one   
of us was in mortal danger. But I also knew that, whether I thought it to be   
a dream or not, I would never forget this moment.   
  
I rested my chin on top of her head, and smiled, shutting my eyes. I needed   
to sleep, too.   
  
Maybe I would dream of her.   
  
Maybe I would dream of all of us.   
* * * * * * *   
  
I actually slept soundly, without any dreams at all-- at least none that I   
could remember in the light of day-- and woke up to Cordelia staring at me.   
I jumped, startled, and blinked a few times. "What the hell are you doing?"   
  
"Memorizing you," she said solemnly, and my surprise at being woken up   
strangely dissipated.   
  
I reached up and tucked a loose bit of her hair behind her ear. "I'm pretty   
sure you've got me memorized by now. How long have you been up?"   
  
"About an hour. I made coffee." She smiled. "It's bad coffee, but   
caffeinated nonetheless. I was just about to wake you, when I decided to...   
Anyway, wake up, Dork."   
  
I glanced at her. "What if I want to stay in bed?" I asked suggestively.   
  
"Are you asking me to stay with you?"   
  
"Not exactly."   
  
"Are you threatening me?" Her eyes were wicked. "Or is it more of a   
promise?"   
  
"Depends on if you're in the mood for kink or romance," I laughed.   
  
She groaned at my lame joke and tugged on my hands, pulling me out of bed. I   
sighed and wrapped my arms around her as we made our way to the kitchen.   
"Willow called. So did Buffy and Giles."   
  
"Do they need us?" I was immediately alert.   
  
"Today yes, but not for a while," Cordelia explained, buttering up some toast   
as I poured myself a cup of her (very bad, she was right) coffee. "We're the   
research bunnies again, I guess."   
  
I rolled my eyes in mock disappointment. "Can't we be the other type of   
bunnies?"   
  
"Xander!" She shook her head, trying to hide a smile. She wasn't doing it   
very well. "Eat your food and get your mind out of the gutter."   
  
I chuckled a bit and started eating, and there was silence for a while.   
Cordelia looked thoughtful, but since she so rarely was, I didn't want to   
speak and interrupt the moment. Finally she looked at me and opened her   
mouth, but didn't say anything.   
  
"Yes....?" I prompted.   
  
"You remember what I said last night, don't you?"   
  
How could I forget? "Of course I do."   
  
"Well, keep remembering it." She bit her lip, looking away from me for a   
moment, and I saw tears gathering in her eyes. "I have a bad feeling about   
this one, Xander. I know we've been through a lot, but this isn't like the   
others. I don't know why, but it's not. So I love you."   
  
I smiled at her, my chest feeling warm inside. "If this is what it takes for   
you to admit that you love me, I should have staged this whole thing a long   
time ago."   
  
"I'm serious, Xander."   
  
I sobered. "I know you are. I love you too."   
  
She reached out and laid her hand over mine, and we finished our meal in   
silence. I felt a small tremble go through me, something mysterious and   
hidden and dangerous clicking at the back of my mind, but didn't say   
anything.   
  
We didn't say another word until we left for Giles's.   
  
There wasn't another word left to say. 


	6. Cordelia

~Cordelia~   
  
  
  
I just couldn't not tell him anymore. I saw myself in the past, wasting so   
much time being mad and hurt when, while my anger was justified, I know now   
that it was something that had to be done. Those kisses, satisfying that   
curiosity that must've been there all their lives. And then I saw myself   
hating him, when I really just hated myself, hated that I had allowed myself   
to fall in love with him.   
  
I had wondered for years what it would be like to tell him. And I wondered   
that night what it would be like not to. And I finally decided that I   
wouldn't have been able to live with myself-- if I lived-- if I didn't.   
  
It felt good to say.   
  
It felt even better to hear back.   
  
I'd spent so much time loving Xander, and taking him for granted; so much   
time that I could have spent hearing those words over and over, making love   
to him, hearing my own heart pound as he made love to me.   
  
I was scared, and there was no way around that.   
  
But at least I was scared with him.   
* * * * * * * *   
  
When I woke up in the morning, I decided to let him sleep in for a while.   
I'd sort of worn him out the night before. While making coffee, the phone   
rang and I answered it, knowing who it would be.   
  
"Hi, Giles."   
  
"Um, yes. Hello, Cordelia."   
  
"What's the up?"   
  
"I just wanted to let you know that I'd be needing both of you today." He   
paused, sounding a little awkward. "Xander is there?"   
  
I sighed. Even having known Giles since I was sixteen, I still couldn't get   
over his British sensibilities. And hey, it wasn't like Giles hadn't ever   
had a sleep-over. "Yes. He's here. He's asleep. Do you want me to wake   
him?"   
  
"No, no. That's fine. I suppose you should just leave him to his rest."   
Again he stopped, and I realized that it wasn't awkwardness I was sensing, it   
was nervousness. And fear. Panic shot through me, but I shoved it down   
inside of myself, not willing to let myself feel that way. "When you're both   
ready, please come over?"   
  
"Sure." I nodded to myself and cleared the frog out of my throat. "Do you   
need us right away?"   
  
"Well... No. But by noon would be the most help."   
  
"All right. Bye, Giles."   
  
We disconnected. I knew that I wouldn't tell Xander how worried Giles had   
sounded. Maybe because talking about it would only make me more afraid.   
Maybe it was simply because Xander didn't need to know.   
  
Or maybe it was because I loved him, and I wanted him as burden-free as   
possible.   
* * * * * * *   
  
When we arrived at Giles's house, we stopped dead. The place was a mess with   
yellowed papers and books were strewn over every available surface. Giles   
looked up at us with messy hair and frazzled eyes, and his glasses rested   
crookedly on his face.   
  
"Oh." He managed a shaky smile. "Hello you two."   
  
"Um, hi." I stepped over some books and a sweater that were lying on the   
floor and made my way to the couch, where he was sitting. Pushing some   
papers aside, I sat down and proceeded to check Giles for any signs of   
bruises. "Did something attack you?"   
  
"No," he said faintly, covering a yawn with his hand, "I apologize for the..."   
  
"Complete lack of floor?" Xander suggested, making his way over to my side.   
  
"Ah, yes." Giles cleared his throat. "For that. I've been up all night,   
looking through some texts that I've been neglecting for years. They've been   
very... illuminating."   
  
"Why didn't you call us?" I demanded, seeing how worn he was. The anger in   
my voice surprised even me, as I wasn't the first person to volunteer to   
research for this type of thing. Giles's eyebrows shot up.   
  
After a moment of silence, he answered. His voice was quiet. "There is a   
very long fight ahead of us, Cordelia. While I can handle myself in combat,   
*this* is my area of expertise. Willow and Oz, you and Xander, and   
especially Angel and Buffy need to be ready for the battle that is sure to   
come."   
  
"Well, I'm *not* good at combat," I pointed out. "So the least you could   
have done is asked if I could help with the research. That way you could   
have gotten a couple of hours of sleep, like you used to in high school."   
  
He looked at me fondly. "I hate to dispel this myth, but I think I got a   
total amount of eighteen hours of sleep during those three years. When you   
were all helping, I was in my office or in my apartment, helping as well."   
  
I looked at him, aghast. Xander chuckled and nodded at Giles, placing his   
hand on my shoulder. I looked at him and he dipped his head at me, telling   
me with a look not to scold Giles for doing his job. I sighed and nodded   
back to him.   
  
"Where is everyone?" Xander finally asked. "It's after eleven."   
  
The yawn that Giles had been suppressing since our arrival finally escaped,   
and then he lowered his head, embarrassed. "Willow and Buffy are out getting   
donuts and magick supplies. Oz is calling some of his contacts to locate a   
book that I need. And Angel is..."   
  
"Being lazy and sleeping the day away?" Xander asked knowingly.   
  
"Resting up," Giles corrected with a smirk. "And I have stumbled across some   
very interesting news."   
  
"What?"   
  
His eyes darkened. "I'd like to wait for the others to arrive before I say   
anything. I need to check something."   
  
A coil of fear chilled my stomach. I knew that Giles only withheld   
information when we were up against something horrible. And though we had   
been up against a lot of horrible things in the past ten years, I knew that   
this was worse.   
  
The only question that remained was how much. 


	7. Oz

~Oz~  
  
  
  
As soon as we went by Giles's the first night, I could sense that there was   
something that he wasn't telling us. Maybe Buffy could too; she always   
seemed to have that capacity as Slayer. Probably Angel. And Willow told me   
as much. It was one of the things that I simply got used to over the years,   
the sixth sense that being a werewolf gave me. Whatever he wasn't telling   
us, wasn't good.   
  
The same feeling crept over me the next morning, when I walked into his   
apartment. Willow gripped my hand tighter, looking at me with large, worried   
eyes. It was obvious that Giles hadn't bothered to sleep. It was obvious   
that there was something very big at stake here. Possibly even bigger than   
what had been at stake before. His place was trashed and his words were   
hurried, almost as if he were scared to waste more than a second on speaking   
when he could be looking something else up.   
  
Buffy showed up then, and it was the three of us; all of us concerned about   
Giles. I could see that Buffy was getting anxious just by looking at him,   
and noticed that old look come into her eyes that said she was about to force   
him to explain himself. Willow apparently noticed it too, because she laid a   
gentle hand on Buffy's arm.   
  
"Giles," she spoke quietly before Buffy had the chance to, "Is there anything   
that we could do?"   
  
He looked a little relieved, possibly knowing what Willow had just saved him   
from-- a worried Slayer is not always the most calming influence around, I've   
learned-- and nodded tightly. "Yes, as a matter of fact. I'm having a bit   
of trouble locating a few books that I need. Perhaps one of you could call   
the remaining numbers and see if someone has it?" I nodded, lifting my hand   
slightly. Giles sent me a tired smile of thanks, and then directed his gaze   
back towards the girls. "And Willow, Buffy. There are some magick supplies   
that I've run out of, that I believe we'll need. If you could possibly go   
down to the store and pick them up, I would appreciate it. And if you would   
stop by the donut shop and get enough for all of us, that would be wonderful.   
The list for the supplies is on the table. So are the phone numbers, and so   
is my wallet. Oz, if you don't find anything with those numbers, do you have   
some contacts that you could try?"   
  
I dipped my head.   
  
He turned away, signaling an end to any argument that was going to come out   
of Buffy. She sighed and shook her head almost imperceptibly, then picked up   
the papers lying on the desk. "Fine, Giles. But the supplies and donuts are   
on me, and you're explaining when I get back."   
  
He exhaled heavily but didn't contradict her, and we left as quietly as we   
came in. The mood between the three of us was somber, and I knew that we   
were all wondering what exactly it was that he was trying so hard not to tell   
us, trying so hard to protect us from.   
  
Wondering how much protection we needed.   
  
Buffy handed me the sheet of paper with the phone numbers on it, and turned   
to Willow. "Come on. Jelly donuts are waiting to be bought." Her voice was   
heavy, resigned.   
  
Willow looked at her sympathetically, then leaned over and gave me a light   
kiss on the cheek. "I'll meet you back here in a while?"   
  
"I'll be here," I agreed, my eyes locking with hers. As far as I could tell,   
she was one of the only beautiful things left in a world with too much   
horror. I couldn't to look away.   
  
And I didn't, until she was out of my sight. Then I turned and headed for my   
van.   
  
There were phone calls to be made.   
* * * * * * * *   
  
"The Pudendum Scrolls? Yeah, I've heard of 'em." Mick laughed mirthlessly.   
"I guess they're some sort of heavy-duty all-purpose monster guide, ya know?   
But I don't know where they are. Sorry, Oz. Why do you need 'em, anyway?"   
  
"Heavy-duty, all-purpose monster guidance," I answered vaguely, stepping   
around the question. "Well, thanks. I'd better..."   
  
"Hey, you still gettin' married?"   
  
"In three months." I nodded to myself, a little surprised. Two days ago,   
all Willow and I talked about were wedding plans and now both of us had   
virtually forgotten.   
  
"It's about time," he agreed, amused. "Am I going to be gettin' a wedding   
invitation?"   
  
"Yeah." I stifled a yawn, forcing myself not to hang up. Why did everyone   
ask that? I paused. Why was I feeling so rude? "We're sending them out in   
a few weeks."   
  
"Cool. Talk to you later, Buddy."   
  
"Later."   
  
We disconnected, and I stared down at the list Giles had given me. Not a   
single number had panned out. There was only one more person that I could   
think of to try, and it seemed like even a longer shot than saving the world   
again was. I sighed, dialing the number.   
  
After two rings, someone picked up. I smiled. "Hey, Jordy. What's goin'   
on?"   
  
He laughed. "Hey, Oz. Man, I haven't heard from you in a while. You still   
marrying that chick? Willow? She was pretty cool."   
  
He could talk faster than any fourteen year old that I had ever met. I knew   
I had to put a stop to it while he paused to take a breath. "Yep, still am,"   
I confirmed cheerfully. "And yes, you'll be getting an invitation. But I'm   
really calling for another reason. Is your mom there?"   
  
"Yeah. Talk to you later. Tell Willow hi." I heard him set down the phone   
and then, a moment later, heard him scream, "MOM!!!!"   
  
She was scolding him for screaming in the house, even as she picked up the   
phone to greet me. "Hello, Oz! Why, I can't remember how long it's been   
since we've heard from you. Jordy says you need to talk to me?"   
  
"Hi, Aunt Maureen." I sighed, feeling a headache coming on, and reached up   
to rub at my temples. "Yeah, I do. About something pretty big. I need a   
favor, if it's possible."   
  
"Well, go ahead. Name it. You know that your Uncle Ken and I would do   
anything for you, sweetheart." She paused expectantly.   
  
"Well, this is a really long shot, but..." I sucked in my breath. "Would   
happen to know anything about a book-- actually several books-- called the   
Pudendum Scrolls?"   
  
I waiting for her apologetic response, and let my mouth drop open when it   
didn't come. "Why, yes. Actually, it's not me that has it; I was visiting   
one of my friends recently... Do you remember Bonnie Walter? It was our   
bridge night, and saw the books lying on her table. She had just bought   
them. I was thinking of purchasing them from her for the book store, but if   
you need me to, I'll just get them for you."   
  
I exhaled, feeling the pressure let up from my chest. "Yes. Thank you so   
much, Aunt Maureen. I really don't know what to say."   
  
"You never did say much to begin with, though, did ya, Honey?" she teased   
lightly.   
  
"No, I guess not," I chuckled. "If you could just let me know how much they   
are, I'd be happy to pay any amount that she quotes."   
  
"Well, if they're that important to you, you can have them for free." I   
could hear the smile in her voice. "And no arguments, hear? This is just   
one of those many things that an aunt does for her favorite nephew.   
Especially one that she's, however indirectly, managed to curse for the rest   
of his life." She let out a peal of laughter.   
  
"You don't need to. I really don't mind payin--"   
  
"I'm sure you don't, but you're not going to," she said resolutely. "Call me   
back in fifteen minutes, and I'll tell you when to come and pick them up."   
  
"All right. Thanks again."   
  
"No problem. Would you like to talk to your Uncle Ken?"   
  
"I'm really sort of on the clock right now," I said regretfully. "I'll call   
him later?"   
  
"Of course. Love you, Honey!"   
  
"Love you too." Love you love you love you love you could worship the ground   
you walk on, my favorite aunt. Oh, God, I was starting to hear Xander in my   
brain.   
  
We hung up, and I sat and stared at the phone for a few minutes in awe, a   
buzz filling my blood. A moment later, after the feeling passed, I snatched   
up my keys and headed out to the van. I needed to get back to Giles's.   
  
We were back in business. 


	8. Angel

~Angel~   
  
  
  
I had been expecting Giles's call. In all truth, I should have called him,   
since I had seen this coming for three days longer than he had. But I was   
scared. Scared of my suspicions being confirmed, scared of going back to   
Sunnydale.   
  
Scared of seeing Buffy again.   
  
She always did scare me a little. In the best way imaginable.   
  
But the instant that I stepped into his apartment, my fear seemed to   
dissipate into thin air. I saw them all, sitting together like they had when   
they were younger, and yet my mind registered only one of them. Buffy's   
presence called out to me, as mine called out to her. The world faded away   
in an instant, and there was no one left but the two of us. We were alone in   
a quiet room, the rain pelting the window outside. Thunder boomed and   
lightning cracked as she shivered in my arms, her eyes full of wonder. Her   
dripping skin was as smooth as silk under my fingertips. Her eyelashes were   
wet with tears and rain. Her lips were swollen from my kisses. Her blood   
rushed through her body, her heart beat loud and fast. Her body blossomed   
under mine, under my touch.   
  
And then she spoke, and the moment ended. As much as it ever did, anyway.   
  
Her eyes were full of wonder yet again and I found that my hands trembled as   
her words seeped into my consciousness. As she said my name.   
  
"Hi, Angel."   
* * * * * * * *   
  
Later, in the courtyard, we were actually left alone, and I stood, glorying   
in her presence. We stood in silence for a few minutes, looking at each   
other, searching for the right words.   
  
Finally, she said, "I'm glad you came."   
  
I let myself smile, just a little, with relief. "I am, too."   
  
"I've missed..." She trailed off uncertainly, her beautiful eyes revealing   
her fear to me. I was glad that I could still read her eyes. She searched   
my face, and then quickly changed her mind about what she had been about to   
say. "How've you been?"   
  
"Tortured," I whispered, unable to help myself. Her eyes widened, and I   
shook my head apologetically. "And fine. It's been different since Cordelia   
came back here last year, but Wesley helps. He would have come, but he's   
gone to England for a month, visiting some old friends."   
  
"Tell him I said hi," she said vaguely, her eyes catching mine and holding   
them.   
  
"How've you been?" I asked after a moment.   
  
"I've missed you," she suddenly confessed, then looked as though she wished   
she could take the words back; trap them under her tongue before they left   
her mouth. For a split second, she was sixteen again, the girl I was just   
beginning to fall in love with. She was innocent and strong, and loved me   
without knowing any better. Loved me like she had when there had been   
nothing to be afraid of.   
  
I reached out and touched the smoothness of her arm, letting my hand fall   
away when she flinched. But I knew she was only flinching because she felt   
too much, saw too much, could sense too much in me. Her eyes were pained and   
sad, and she was again the adult she'd grown into. My eyebrows drew together   
in worry. "Something's happening, Buffy. And I don't know exactly what, but   
I don't like it. I don't want..."   
  
She waited expectantly, fear showing plainly on her face.   
  
I finished, "I don't want it to happen without you knowing how I feel. Still   
feel. Will always feel. About you."   
  
Slowly, a smile curved her mouth, warm and pleased. "I know, Angel."   
  
"I hoped you did," I whispered. I reached out again, brushing her cheekbone   
lightly with my knuckles. She trembled slightly under my touch.   
  
"Well, I'd better..." Buffy spoke slowly, lingeringly, as though she wanted   
to stay with me. I wanted to stay with her. There was nothing I wanted more   
than to walk her home, hear her gentle voice as we talked about everything   
and nothing. Possibly feel her hand in mine for the first time in... Far too   
long.   
  
But there were things I needed to do.   
  
"Yes." I cleared my throat to prevent myself from asking her to stay. "You   
should sleep. I'll see you tomorrow?"   
  
She nodded silently, then leaned up and gave me a swift, feather-light kiss   
on the cheek. "Goodnight, Angel."   
  
I stared down at her. Her eyelashes were brushing against her cheek. My   
cool skin burned from the contact of her lips. I wanted to take her into my   
arms and kiss her decently, kiss her like she hadn't been kissed since the   
day she would never remember. But I didn't. I dipped my head instead, and   
when I spoke, my voice was rough with wanting her. "Goodnight, Buffy."   
  
A whisper of a sigh escaped her, but she smiled, resigned. Then she turned   
away and walked quickly out of the courtyard, perhaps knowing that if she   
didn't leave soon, I was going to make it impossible for her to leave at all.   
* * * * * * *   
  
Giles was waiting for me when I came back inside. He didn't even look up   
when I entered. "You expected me to call you, didn't you?"   
  
"Yes," I answered simply, seeing no need to lie. My voice was heavy. My   
heart was heavier.   
  
At that, he looked up. His eyes were sad. "How is Buffy?"   
  
"I couldn't tell you," I said, sinking onto the couch. "I suppose she's as   
well as can be expected. She's gone home to get some sleep."   
  
"Good," Giles said firmly. "She'll need it, from what I can see."   
  
"Yes."   
  
He paused for a moment. "What do you know?"   
  
"Virtually nothing," I admitted. "For the past few days, I've been seeing   
portents. I know that... I think that I saw the foreshadowing of someone's   
death."   
  
"Who?" Giles leaned forward imperceptibly.   
  
"I don't know. One of them, one of us. One person's death." I shook my   
head. "It's probably nothing, though. And if it does turn out to be   
something, it could be a death like the one that Buffy's already had. Maybe   
it won't be permanent. Maybe we'll be able to bring them out of it."   
  
"Possibly." His tone told me that he didn't agree, but didn't want to   
disagree for hope's sake. "Would you hand me that book, to your left?"   
  
I reached over and picked it up, giving it to him. Giles nodded his thanks.   
He began flipping through it quickly.   
  
"What book is it?"   
  
"The Realm of Death." Again, he didn't look up. "There might be a spell in   
here to reverse the effects of the death of a loved one. I thought I read   
something about... No." He sighed in annoyance. "No. Where did I hear of   
it?"   
  
"The Pudendum Scrolls?" I suggested. His eyes snapped to mine.   
  
"Yes. Thank you. Do you have them?"   
  
"No. I only know of them because Wesley mentioned that we should find it,   
that it had some very useful spells to conquer death." I paused, something   
new occurring to me. "As a matter of fact, it's supposed to be some sort of   
a guide to the underworld. It might be able to explain what's happening with   
the Old Ones."   
  
Giles nodded excitedly. "Angel, do you know any people that might be able to   
locate the book?"   
  
"A few. I'm not sure if any of them have it, though."   
  
"Would you mind calling them for me?" he asked quickly.   
  
I shook my head. And reached for the phone.   
* * * * * * * *   
  
I lowered myself into bed and took a deep, useless breath. I could smell the   
sun lifting over the horizon. The earth would be baking under its heat in   
less than twenty minutes.   
  
None of my numbers had worked out. Giles had told me to go home and get some   
rest, considering that I would be one of the most important people during the   
battle. I finally resigned to his will, after he pointed out that the sun   
would be up soon and that I would be trapped in his bathroom for the length   
of the day if I didn't want it to hit me. So I laid in bed. I tried to rest.   
  
But when I closed my eyes, all I saw was Buffy. 


	9. Buffy

~Buffy~   
  
  
  
All I could do was imagine the time that Angelus killed Jenny all those years   
ago; how Giles had risked his life to kill him. I saw him doing that now,   
without even leaving his apartment. All of the things that he used to do for   
me cost him something very precious, very important, of his own. Something   
that he couldn't get back. Something that he was giving me, to each of us.   
  
To keep us alive.   
  
I should have hog-tied him and forced him to sleep.   
  
It was always hard for me to watch him while he was working. Even though he   
seemed happiest amidst all of his books, while researching something we all   
thought we would never be able to find, I secretly worried about him the   
whole time. What if Giles got too burnt out? What if he ended up getting   
hurt because of something he was trying to do or find for me? And the most   
selfish, scary question of all: What if I was left without him in my life?   
  
Saying that he's like my father is inadequate. There's a deeper connection   
between us than the blood of family could ever forge. The connection that   
came with destiny, the connection that came with bloodshed. For each other,   
we did these things. And what if one of us was left without the other?   
  
My heart skipped a beat and I paused mid-step, clutching my chest. My dreams   
for the past few nights hadn't been very good, but since I couldn't remember   
them at all, I knew that they couldn't be prophetic. And yet... The thought   
of losing Giles, or any one of my friends, made me freeze in terror. The   
thought of one of us lost in the darkness, without anyone there to pull us   
back, was horrifying.   
  
And it made a gruesome sort of sense.   
  
I was sure I must be going crazy. How could that ever make sense? What kind   
of a saving-the-world operation was this? I felt as though Fate, the very   
Fate that had made me what I was, the Fate that had connected me so   
intimately with all of my friends, was now laughing at me again.   
  
A five-year old's laugh. 'I know something you don't know!' I wanted to   
growl in frustration, scream and beat my hands and feet against the ground   
futilely. Yes, the Fates knew something that I didn't. And they were making   
a joke of it. On top of all of the other cruel jokes they had made on me.   
Always finding some way to ruin Buffy's life, even when she's an adult.   
  
Maybe I was still a little bitter over the Angel thing.   
  
Suddenly Willow's voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up in a daze   
to realize that she had been trying to revive me for two minutes. "Buffy!!"   
  
"What?" I blinked.   
  
"I just..." She swallowed, looking shaken. "All of the sudden you stopped,   
and clutched at your heart. You wouldn't move or talk. I... I slapped you."   
  
I paused for a moment. Yes, my cheek stung a little. My breath came out as   
a wheeze. "I sort of got caught up in a... I don't know. A sort of a   
daydream."   
  
Willow seemed to think this over and then grudgingly accept what I said,   
though I could tell that she had her own suspicions. "Well, we're here."   
  
"Where?"   
  
"The donut shop."   
  
"Oh. Okay." I forced a smile, giving Willow's arm a little squeeze. "Why   
don't we get a box just for Giles? Filled with jellies? Think he'd like?   
And something for each of the others? Like, we can get some   
chocolate-covered ones for Xander, and a muffin for Cordy? And..."   
  
"A couple of maple bars for Oz," she supplied.   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Sure." Willow said it simply. I glanced at her and for a second our eyes   
locked. I saw that she was just as eager to do something for all of them as   
I was, even if it was something small. A way to be nice, to show that we   
knew them and loved them, a way to show that we loved having them as a part   
of our lives. I couldn't say why the feeling was so strong, but it was.   
Obviously, to her as well.   
  
We looked away from each other, but the feeling lingered on the edge of my   
mind; I knew it would be there all the way through this. Donuts may have not   
been the deepest way to tell your friends that you loved them, but it would   
have to do for now.   
  
We had to treat each other well. In the end, we were all that we had.   
* * * * * *   
  
A half-hour before the sun set, I excused myself from Giles's, and drove over   
to Angel's. I knew he wouldn't really mind a long, brooding walk through the   
dark streets of Sunnydale, but I wanted to be with him as often as I could.   
Selfish of me yet again, I supposed, but as excited as I was to be doing what   
I was destined for, there was a part of me that was terrified. I had a bad   
feeling. And I wanted to be with everyone, as if these days were the last   
ones we were all going to be together.   
  
Besides that, I had something I wanted to give him.   
  
I let myself into the mansion, and for a moment I just looked around in awe.   
It didn't seem smaller to me as things sometimes tend to do when you grow up   
and go back to a childhood resting place, but instead seemed even more   
magnificent, more romantic, more... Haunted with memories than ever before.   
  
I shook myself out of the stupor that set upon me when I first entered, and   
walked quietly into his room. He was asleep.   
  
I smiled a little, realizing that in all of the time we had spent together;   
all of the nights where I fell asleep with him, curled up in his arms after   
an especially hard battle, I rarely woke in time to see him asleep. And   
whenever I did, he woke up seconds after I did; we were attuned to each   
other, even in rest.   
  
I walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, letting my hand   
drift over his features. Quietly memorizing the feel of his face, his neck,   
his shoulders, under my fingertips. After a few moments, he stirred and his   
eyes fluttered open. He looked at me seriously, as if understanding my need   
for closeness.   
  
I no longer wanted to pretend that there couldn't be anything between us. I   
no longer felt the need. There would always *be* something between us.   
Something deeper than the deepest kind of love, more pure than the holiest   
water, more intimate than sex or blood. There always had been, no matter how   
hard we each tried to deny it, and there would be forever. We were linked.   
It was undefinable. The word love was the only way to express it, and even   
that fell unbelievably short.   
  
"Buffy," he whispered, as though he knew I would come.   
  
He probably did.   
  
I placed my finger over his lips and he looked at me questioningly. I   
smiled, and my request was as quiet as my breath. "Change, my love."   
  
He paused for a moment, his eyes on mine, and then nodded, acceding to what I   
asked. Ridges filled his eyebrows and his teeth elongated. The warm, lovely   
brown of his eyes brightened to a frightening gold, and still he was   
beautiful to me. I helped him sit up.   
  
He watched me in silence as I pulled a very small, very sharp dagger out of   
my purse. His eyes widened a little, but he did nothing to question me, or   
to stop me. I lifted the knife and opened my mouth, reaching in and making a   
tiny but deep cut appear on my tongue. The blood rushed forth in my mouth,   
coppery and filled with life.   
  
And before the wound could stop bleeding, I leaned forward and kissed him.   
  
Angel froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then I placed my hands   
around his skull, pressing him closer to me. He relaxed a little bit and   
opened his mouth over mine, his tongue pressing my own gently. As the first   
taste of my blood hit him, I felt him shudder with delight, heard him groan   
with the sheer pleasure. The last time, I had been nearly insane with grief   
over the thought of losing him. This time, I was clear-headed and wanted to   
savor the moment.   
  
He pulled me closer to him, grasping at my waist tightly, until I was sitting   
on his lap and he was kneading my hips. It was sensuous and intimate,   
halfway on top of him, feeling his erection press into the backs of my   
thighs, knowing that it was me who had given him such pleasure. He   
alternated lapping at my tongue and then sucking on it furiously, his hands   
creeping up to wind through my hair. The blood continued to flow. The kiss   
went on and on.   
  
I began to feel dreamy and distant, apart from the world, locked with him in   
that secret, forbidden embrace. I could taste my blood on his lips.   
  
As the dizziness set in, I squeezed his shoulder lightly, and Angel paused in   
his bloodkiss, understanding my gesture. Carefully, he pulled himself away   
and with a tremendous effort, changed his face back. His hands held my face   
gently but firmly, as though afraid to let go.   
  
His eyes were incredibly warm. He knew what I had been trying to do; trying   
to give him something that he needed, something that he would delight in,   
something that only I could give to him. Something that would perhaps cement   
what we had been wondering about since we had laid eyes on each other again   
for the first time in four years. Were we still a part of each other?   
  
Yes.   
  
Would we always be?   
  
The question had been laid to rest. 


	10. Giles

~Giles~   
  
  
  
I sat in my apartment, waiting for each of them to arrive. Though they were   
all adults, I could see what my 'protection' was doing to them, and decided   
to share what little information I had. Someone might die. Someone that we   
all cared for might die.   
  
Each of them could sense that I was holding something back. I sighed. I was   
holding far too much back. In my mind, they were all still children, and I   
didn't want any one of them to have to suffer the knowledge that they need   
not know. I wanted them to have that blessed ignorance that's written of,   
that euphoria of being naive. But I couldn't let them walk into battle like   
that. I couldn't make them put their lives on the line without telling them   
the level truth. I couldn't make their choices.   
  
They were the ones that had to choose.   
  
And although each of them had quietly chosen this path for more than ten   
years, we hadn't faced the same kind of threat in quite a long time, and I   
needed to be sure. I needed to be sure of them.   
  
I was putting them and myself through Hell because I couldn't decide what the   
right thing to do was. And that was simply because I wasn't being honest.   
Perhaps if they all backed out.... Well, then we would all probably die, but   
maybe not for a longer time than this prophesy had intended to mean. And the   
whole point of our lives had been to survive, to keep living.   
  
We used to take this world day by day, and we had gotten complacent about it.   
Now, there would be no complacency. There would be no relaxation. I would   
always be on my guard. I would always have to be.   
  
Cordelia and Xander were slowly straightening the mess that I had allowed   
myself to make, sorting through the important papers and putting the   
unimportant ones away, when Buffy and Willow walked through the door. They   
came bearing several different bags, each of them full, and two boxes, with   
large smiles on their faces. I stood wearily, feeling the tiredness seep   
through my bones.   
  
I wasn't a young man when I started working as a Watcher, but I was being   
reminded about how much older I was now every minute.   
  
"Donuts!" Buffy called.   
  
Xander and Cordelia lifted themselves off of the couch, too, and took a   
couple of the bags that loaded Buffy and Willow down. "What did you get us?"   
  
W laughed. "Look through them. You'll know which is yours."   
  
Buffy, however, held onto the two boxes and walked over to me. I saw concern   
residing deep in her eyes, shadowing the blue, and she had a small, worried   
frown on her face. She held out the boxes. "This one's for you, Giles," she   
murmured, studying me thoroughly.   
  
"Thank you." I accepted them and looked inside. Two dozen jelly donuts were   
hidden in there, each of them, I suspected, raspberry. My favorite. I   
looked back at Buffy in confusion.   
  
She shrugged modestly, the hint of a smile flickering over her face. "For 


	11. Willow

~Willow~   
  
  
  
Buffy came down the stairs with a sad look on her face. "He's asleep."   
  
"Thank *God!*" Cordelia declared, rolling her eyes. "I was afraid that he   
was going to pass out and be of no use to us if he kept on going like he was."   
  
I nodded. I could see the same fear in her eyes as I was sure was in mine.   
"Yeah. He's been pushing himself too hard lately. And it's not exactly like   
he's been exercising the old Watcher muscles lately, you know? Not that he   
can't do it, just..."   
  
Buffy nodded at me, patting my shoulder. "I know what you mean, Will. I was   
worried too."   
  
We shared a small smile. "Did he like the donuts?"   
  
"Yeah," she murmured, her eyes twinkling. "And it's a good thing too,   
because he'll be really hungry when he wakes up."   
  
"Did he tell you when to wake him?" Xander asked, glancing up from the pile   
of books he was looking through.   
  
"When Oz comes back," she shrugged. Nonchalantly, she continued. "Of   
course, if anyone wakes him up before sunset, they're going to have a *very*   
upset Slayer on their hands. And no one wants that, right?" Buffy surveyed   
the room, satisfied at our amused and still slightly frightened nods.   
  
"Okay then." She nodded back. "Let's get back to work."   
  
"Doing what, exactly?" Cordelia pointed out.   
  
"Uhm..." Buffy's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "I don't know   
really. Something, I'm sure, will come up if we keep looking. Oh, and take   
out the books that Giles hasn't already taken off the book shelf. Look for   
anything with a mention of the Old Ones. Then we'll..."   
  
"Mark the pages so that Giles-- the only one of us who would really   
understand what we're looking at-- can go through them later?" Xander   
suggested. Cordelia laughed slightly and he winked at her.   
  
"Yes," Buffy said, smirking. "Exactly. Even if we don't understand it,   
it'll help him if we manage to find something that he's overlooked. I   
*really* need to learn about a thousand different languages, like Giles   
knows," she sighed. "Then this would all be much easier."   
  
The soft sound of pages turning filled the room after that.   
* * * * * * * *   
  
It was three o'clock before Oz arrived. Without thinking, I stood and let   
the book that was on my lap tumble to the floor. Oz looked at me for a   
second, his eyes sort of sad, and then opened his arms widely. I rushed into   
them blindly, tears obscuring my view and laid my head against his shoulder,   
sobbing quietly. His breath was steady, reassuring, and his arms were tight   
around me. He rubbed my back soothingly, like he knew without asking what I   
was feeling.   
  
I was surprised at myself. I had managed to keep it together this long, I   
didn't think that there would be anything to worry about. But when I saw him   
standing in the doorway, I just... Wanted to be held by him, I guess.   
  
I had a sudden recollection of the first night we made love, of what I said   
to him then. "It's just that everything's really scary right now." Maybe   
that's what it was about. Whatever it was, I knew that Oz would be there to   
comfort me. He would let me hold on as tight as I wanted, let me cry until   
his shoulder was sopping wet. He would let me lean on him when I couldn't   
stand anymore. He would be totally Oz in the way that only he could be.   
  
I finally got myself under control and pulled back. Oz looked at me   
sympathetically, wiping away some of my tears. "I love you," he murmured.   
  
I clung to him. "I love you too," I whispered back.   
  
"Hey." He lifted my chin a little, making me look him in the eyes. A gentle   
smile accompanied that beautiful green gaze. "When we get through this,   
we're going to get married."   
  
I laughed quickly, but it sounded more like a drowned sob. "Yes."   
  
"And everything is going to turn out fine," he continued.   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Will?" I turned around at Xander's voice. His eyes flickered with concern.   
"Are you...?"   
  
"I'm fine," I nodded, brushing my remaining tears away. "I just... Guess I   
was hit by a little too much stress to handle in a single second or   
something."   
  
Buffy lifted her head, looking at me steadily. "It's okay."   
  
Oz led me back to the couch, pulling me down next to him. "Where's Giles?"   
  
"Asleep," Buffy said before anyone else could talk. "And I've already   
threatened everyone else against waking him." She batted her eyelashes   
playfully, "And you wouldn't really want to displease me, would you?"   
  
Oz grinned slightly, glancing at me. "I need to make it to my wedding a   
whole man."   
  
"Uh huh," she said wryly, giving me a wink. I snickered.   
  
I just love how laughter, even the most subtle kind, is contagious. Cordelia   
giggled and Xander laughed. Oz chuckled a little bit, and Buffy just leaned   
her head back against her chair and closed her eyes with a soft smile on her   
face. For a moment, she looked relaxed.   
  
And it makes me damn happy to think that that was partly due to me.   
* * * * * * *   
  
As the sun was beginning to set, Buffy yawned, putting down her book and   
standing up. She stretched a little and then nodded, a faraway look in her   
eyes. "You guys? I don't like leaving you in a lurch, but... I need to go   
for a little while. Will you be okay?"   
  
Xander rolled his eyes. "Yes. And considering we haven't found anything so   
far, I don't think we'll mourn your absence *too* much."   
  
Buffy flashed him a smile and then started out the door. I squeezed Oz's   
hand quickly and got up, going after her. I caught up to her in the   
courtyard. "You all right?"   
  
"Yeah." She looked in my eyes and I saw that she was telling me the truth.   
There was a serenity there that hadn't been there earlier. Part of her mind   
was still reeling, I could see, probably from the whole Hellmouth thing, but   
another part of her-- a deeper, more secret part-- had come to a decision   
about something and whatever that something was, it made her content. "Just   
something I need to do."   
  
Impulsively, I hugged her. "Angel?"   
  
"Yes," she murmured against my shoulder, hugging me back. "I love you, Will."   
  
"I love you too." I let go but held onto her arms firmly. "You're my best   
friend, Buffy."   
  
Her eyes glittered for a moment. "You're mine. I don't know what I would   
have done if I hadn't met you and Xander. You guys saved my..." She paused   
for a moment, thoughtfully. "Heart. My sanity. You guys saved everything   
about me that was ever worth saving. I don't know what I would have done if   
you hadn't come into my life."   
  
I smiled and we started walking for her car. "Probably have ended up a hard   
ass who didn't take lip from anyone."   
  
"I'm that anyway," she grinned. We reached her car and stopped, and she   
turned to look at me once more. Her voice was soft. "I see you in my mind   
sometimes as the same girl I met so long ago. Your hair is down to your   
waist and you hesitate when you speak. I know you did a lot to get rid of   
that girl, for a long time, but I wanted to tell you that I think she's still   
there. Under the rest. Under everything else, all of your other attributes.   
And I think she's beautiful. I think she's priceless. I think her   
uncertainty over the right thing to say is what made me love her. I think   
her pride over how well she could work with the computer makes her   
fascinating. I don't think that she's anything to be ashamed of. I think   
that the way she smiles shyly lights up a room. I think that the kind of   
friend she is makes her one of the best people in the world. I think that   
she's always been beautiful, even though she didn't know it. She's always   
shined in her own way. I love you for everything you are, Willow, but also   
for keeping her inside of you for so long."   
  
Somewhere in the middle of what she was saying, I had started to cry. I   
wiped furiously at my tears and nodded, hugging her briefly again. "Thank   
you, Buffy."   
  
"You're welcome," she said simply, "To the truth of it all, that is."   
  
We stepped away from each other and she got into her car. "When will you be   
back?" The tears were still in my voice.   
  
"Less than an hour, I think," she told me. Her mouth curved up gently. "I   
need to tell Angel some truths we've been avoiding now, too."   
  
I touched her hand and she grinned, subtly wiping her eyes before zooming off   
into the setting sun. I watched after her for a moment before turning back   
into Giles's apartment.   
  
My thoughts seemed very quiet inside of me, like I had to strain to hear   
them. I remembered a dream that I had once, when the first Slayer had been   
stalking our sleep... A dream where I had been running away from that old   
girl, the girl I was in high school. The class nerd, the computer geek. The   
girl who made me ashamed of everything I was. I dreamed that I was running   
from her but then was revealed as being her the whole time. She was hidden,   
though, underneath me, and I never let her out.   
  
I always thought that I was just being paranoid. I told myself so many times   
over the years that the dream didn't mean anything. That it was old   
insecurities rising up to hurt me. I told myself that I had grown up and   
that that girl was long gone.   
  
But I was wrong.   
  
Buffy was right. She'd always been inside me, secretly. Maybe the more I   
wanted to let her go, the tighter she held onto my soul. I smiled. Maybe,   
just maybe, she was who made me who I am today.   
  
I touched my chest lightly, over my heart. I suddenly loved her too, with   
the vengeance of love long-ignored. I hoped that people would be able to see   
her in my eyes from time to time. I hoped that I would never try to forget   
her again.   
  
I went inside and sat down next to Oz, looking at him, testing it out. His   
eyes widened-- almost imperceptibly-- and he leaned forward to kiss me softly   
on the mouth. "Well," he murmured. "Hello again."   
  
"Can you see her?" I asked, slightly surprised, and then laughed a little,   
realizing that he didn't know what I was talking about.   
  
But he didn't laugh along with me. His voice was steady and smooth. "I can   
see *you*," he said quietly. He leaned in for another kiss.   
  
The girl inside of me shined. 


	12. Xander

~Xander~   
  
  
  
I looked up from my book, leaning into Cordelia and asking quietly, "So she's   
going to see Angel?"   
  
"Looks that way," she murmured.   
  
I sat back, thinking. I had spent so much of my time just hating that guy   
for being better than me in every single way, when really I hated myself   
because I wasn't as good as him. ....No, I didn't hate myself. I hated   
Angel. I really, really hated him.   
  
But, maybe it was time to let go of that feeling. Willow, eternal optimist   
that she is, once told me that a smile takes thirteen muscles and a frown   
takes sixty-four. So I was wasting sixty-four of my face muscles on hating a   
vampire who had never really done anything to me? Granted, he hurt my   
friends, and I didn't like that. And he made Buffy cry more than once, which   
I could have killed him for. But if I was honest, I hated him long before   
that. I was simply jealous, for so many years.   
  
And I was getting pretty sick of it.   
  
I wasn't in love with Buffy anymore. Maybe I had been at one time, the kind   
of crush that hurts deeply when you realize it's never going to work out the   
way you hoped, but I got over that. I love Buffy now in a way that I can't   
even describe on most days. She's one of my best friends and my little   
sister and big sister all at once. I feel protective of her and she watches   
out for me. I spent the first fifteen years of my life wishing for a family,   
and now I had one. And she's an important part of it.   
  
It wasn't even about Ms. Calendar anymore, even though no one could have seen   
that I took her death hard, too. I think my hating him was just a habit.   
One that I was going to have to break. I sighed. There was one thing that I   
had done that I knew I should apologize for.   
  
I didn't let myself think about it very often. Whenever the memory came to   
me, it hurt for a long time. Once the thought was in my head, I would lose   
at least a few nights of sleep. One of those horrible, dull aches would fill   
my stomach.   
  
I'd done some things in my life that I'd regretted; everyone has. Like   
ignoring Willow for so many years, hurting her with every word I spoke about   
another girl. Or cheating on Cordelia, seeing the look in her eyes when she   
realized that she should have stayed away from me after all. ...Most of my   
mistakes had to do with women, yeah. But this one was the worst. The three   
simple little words I had spoken hurt so many more people for so much longer   
than I could have imagined.   
  
The funny thing was, I didn't mean to hurt anyone in the first place.   
  
And maybe now I shouldn't apologize. But I knew with a severe epiphany-- the   
kind that comes when you're eighty years old and realize that you wanted to   
do something entirely different with your life-- that I was going to.   
  
Cordelia smoothed back my hair, looking seriously into my eyes. "Are you   
okay?"   
  
"Yeah." I smiled, stroking her thigh lightly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got to   
thinking."   
  
"Can't do that too often." God, that impish smile should be sold as a   
technique for winning men over. She leaned over and kissed me gently.   
"Hungry?"   
  
I paused, thinking. "Yeah." Like I really needed to think.   
  
"Okay. I was just about to order a pizza," she laughed, getting up and   
walking over to the phone. From across the room, she winked at me, letting   
me know that she had known what I was going to say before I said it.   
  
I grinned, knowing it wasn't that big of an intuitive leap for her. The way   
to my heart has always been through my stomach.   
* * * * * * *   
  
After Giles woke up and the pizza was delivered, no one really knew what to   
do. It was obvious that we had exhausted our research materials. Giles   
insisted that we eat and wait for Buffy to arrive, as he had some news to   
tell us. Which, of course, isn't something that you can say without having   
people balk and demand to know right away.   
  
But Giles just glared at us as he chewed on his slice of pizza and shook his   
head.   
  
Finally, Buffy and Angel walked in.   
  
Willow gasped. "Did you get in a fight?" I understood her shock at seeing   
blood on the corner of Buffy's mouth. It had been about six months since any   
of us had *seen* a vampire, let alone fought one. But Buffy shook her head   
with a smile.   
  
"No. Is it still bleeding? I bit my tongue, that's all." She glanced at   
Angel and then to Giles, her eyes twinkling. "Um, sorry for not waking you,   
too, Giles."   
  
"No matter. There wasn't much I could have done awake, anyway." Giles   
gestured for them to sit down, which they promptly did. "I've been waiting   
for you all to be here, so that I could... Tell you something." This was his   
dramatic pause moment, which he utilized pretty well, I have to admit. We   
all leaned forward in our seats as Giles took a deep breath. "Someone in   
this room is going to die."   
  
The room fell silent. Even our breathing was barely audible. Finally   
Cordelia, in a very Cordelia-esque fashion, blurted out, "WHAT?"   
  
Gotta love how straightforward she is.   
  
Giles sighed. "At least that's what I've been able to make of the broken   
prophesy so far. Perhaps I'm translating it wrong. I pray that I am, as a   
matter of fact. But the fact remains that I've gone over it two dozen times   
with no change in the results. Angel has been seeing portents. I'm hoping   
that the books that we'll be getting tomorrow might have a different   
translation in them, or at least be able to help us with the coming battle.   
But I need to know right now... I don't want to put any of you in danger if   
you don't know how dangerous it is. Even if you do, actually. So I wanted   
to give any of you who wish-- even you, Buffy-- the opportunity to back out   
of this. We can all turn our backs and wait for this to play out in whatever   
way it will if that's how you so choose."   
  
"Right," Buffy smirked, "Because I'm so in the habit of giving the bad guys   
free reign in my territory. I've always known what could happen, Giles. I'm   
still in."   
  
"Me too," Angel said quietly.   
  
"I'm in," I finally spoke up. "I don't think that any one of us has been   
going around for the last ten years with our eyes closed. We've all known   
that each day could be our last. But we did it anyway. I'm not backing out   
just because of a threat that we've heard at least a hundred times before."   
  
"I'm not either," Cordelia said, her voice clear and strong.   
  
"Me neither," Willow said with a smile. Oz just shrugged, looking as laid   
back as ever.   
  
Now, I know that this is probably sexist of me, but as soon as I heard   
Cordelia's voice, I wanted to tell her that she couldn't be a part of it.   
And then Willow spoke up, and I wanted to stand and shout it from the   
rooftops that *niether* of them were going to put themselves in any danger.   
My girlfriend and my best friend since birth, wanting to go against a   
prophecy that one of the seven of us would die. There was a one in seven   
chance that it would be one of them.   
  
I must have been squeezing Cordelia's hand pretty hard because she looked   
down at me and smiled gently. "What, you get to go but you don't want me   
to?" she asked, reading my thoughts.   
  
"I just..." I didn't recognize my own voice.   
  
"I know," she said quietly before turning back to Giles.   
  
I found my gaze wandering to Willow, who I found looking at me. We stared at   
each other for a long moment. ~I love you, Will. I don't want you to die.   
You're one of the biggest parts of me. God, please don't do this. Please   
don't be as brave as you are, just this once,~ a small voice in my mind   
whispered.   
  
A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. And then the weirdest thing   
happened.   
  
I heard *her* voice inside my head.   
  
~I don't want you to die either. But if you're going, then I'm going to be a   
part of it. Do you really think that I'd let my best friend since childhood   
risk his life alone? What about Oz? What about Buffy? I love you too,   
Xander. But you have to remember that we've always been better together than   
we have been apart.~   
  
I didn't know what had happened, whether it was just what I thought she would   
have been saying to me in that moment, or if I actually read her thoughts   
there for a second, but I guess overall it doesn't matter. Whether or not it   
was really her voice in my head, I was now resigned for what was to come.   
  
"Do you know who it is?" Oz asked calmly, but I saw that his grip on Willow's   
hand had turned white.   
  
"Ah, no." Giles actually smiled then. "I don't know if I've ever mentioned   
it, but this group has been written of. The ones who came together before   
the end days. The chosen six sent to help the Slayer. It speaks of the one   
with visions, the wolf and the witch. The vampire and the heart of loyalty   
and laughter. The Slayer, of course, and her Watcher. We were..." His   
voice was soft. "We were destined, you see."   
  
I saw. I saw exactly what he was talking about. I had always felt like... I   
don't know. Like our little group, our little family, was meant to be. Like   
everything had finally fallen into place. I smiled, suddenly feeling like   
nothing in the world could stop us.   
  
"Is that it?" Buffy said, hiding a grin. "Because, you know, we're all in it   
seems and... Well, now I'm going to eat pizza."   
  
Willow laughed and began talking to Buffy as Cordelia started grilling Giles   
on all he knew about what was going to come. Over the conversations, I   
caught Angel's eyes, nodding towards the door. He looked confused for a   
minute, like why was I talking to him but shrugged and headed outside. I   
followed.   
  
We didn't talk for long, but when it was over, I felt better than I had in a   
long time. Even with the fear that I as going to die-- or worse, one of my   
friends-- I felt good. Of course, the fear was no picnic, but I had been   
through it before.   
  
I wanted this, I reminded myself. If this was the way to be with them, I   
wanted it.   
  
And looking around at the smiling faces, I knew it was true. 


	13. Cordelia

~Cordelia~   
  
I'd had all of these plans for my life. When I was sixteen, I thought I   
would get married to someone rich and handsome and fascinating. When I was   
seventeen, I was sure it would be Xander. When I was twenty, I fell in love   
with Wesley and saw myself battling evil with him for the rest of my life,   
and when we broke up under surprisingly friendly circumstances, I was still   
sure I would never fall in love again. And then I moved back to Sunnydale   
and it seemed like I was back to one of my original plans. Live with Xander,   
marry Xander, have kids with Xander and then lose all of the pregnancy weight   
before the baby was two days old. I actually expected that.   
  
But I guess things don't always go the way you expect. I should have figured   
that out. Maybe if I had expected *this*, what I would be getting was the   
happy life. I didn't think that I would be waiting for either myself or one   
of my friends to die before we were thirty. I thought things had finally   
settled down in my life. I thought that this would be the time where I was   
waiting for all of the good stuff to finally come. I thought this time would   
bring in the things we've earned. The happiness. The relaxation.   
  
The lack of visions.   
  
But instead of that, I find myself terrified. No one's talking about it, but   
I'm pretty sure they all feel the same way, deep inside. I look into   
Xander's eyes and he has this panic when he looks back, or when he glances at   
Willow. Or even Buffy, like there's something *he* can do to protect *her.*   
  
Instead we all just sat around for the rest of the night after Giles'   
revelation, talking like it would be our last night on Earth. Which it could   
have been, I guess. The later it got, the quieter we all got until I   
realized that I was the only one left awake. And as the sun rose, even I was   
starting to fall asleep.   
  
And that's when it happened.   
  
Pain shot through my skull.   
  
I saw a dark cemetery where the mist was rising off the ground like souls   
trying to escape from their graves. I saw the army of vampires. I saw   
blood... Oh my God, so much blood. And a circle lit by candles with an   
overhanging crescent moon above.   
  
I moaned softly as the images disappeared and the pain in my head evaporated.   
I moaned out of pain that filled my soul like buckets of ice water being   
splashed onto my subconscious. I wanted to have not seen what I just had.   
  
I thought they were gone, the visions.   
  
And then I was crying, and I didn't know how to stop. Xander opened his eyes   
quickly, sitting up in the chair we were crunched into, and searched my eyes.   
Without asking-- I don't know how he knew-- his fingers found my temples and   
he began rubbing away the remnants of the headache I got.   
  
"I don't want this to be happening," I whimpered under his soothing touch.   
  
He nodded silently and started wiping away the tears streaking down my face.   
His voice was calm and comforting. "What is it?"   
  
"Vision," I murmured.   
  
"A vision? You haven't had a vision in...?"   
  
"Three years," I murmured through my tears. "There was so much blood,   
Xander. Oh God... It hurts. I saw it. I saw it."   
  
"Cordelia." He pressed his mouth to mine gently, quieting me. "Who did you   
see? Who was it?"   
  
"I... I don't know. I just saw blood. So much blood, spilling all over the   
place. I saw some sort of spell going on. I saw vampires." My voice was   
shaky; I seemed to be having trouble breathing. "Oh, God."   
  
"No." Xander held my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. "No.   
We'll find a way around it. How many times have we beaten an ancient   
prophecy before? Twenty? Thirty? Whatever happens, we'll beat it. It'll   
be all right." He took me in his arms tightly, smoothing back my hair.   
  
I tried to be brave, but it didn't seem like there was a whole lot of brave   
left in me. "What about Giles? Shouldn't we wake him, tell him? Everyone?"   
  
"We'll tell them in the morning." His voice was grainy, and he hugged me   
closer. "Just sleep now."   
  
"Yes," I said, taking a deep breath. Sleep, escape from those images,   
sounded like perfect Heaven at that moment. "Yes, sleep."   
  
"Cordy?"   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"I love you."   
* * * * * * *   
  
When I woke up in the morning, I was surprisingly refreshed. I looked   
around, seeing that everyone was still asleep. Well, except for Giles.   
Apparently he had made it his personal duty to cover the rest of us up.   
Buffy and Angel had retreated to Giles's bedroom, where they could close the   
curtains and rest up and Willow and Oz were curled together on Giles's couch.   
  
  
Giles opened the curtains with a flourish when he noticed me staring at him.   
He quietly made his way over to my side, stepping over the books and papers   
that lay strewn across the floor. "Coffee?"   
  
I yawned, gently extracting myself from Xander's tight embrace. "Please.   
Lots of sugar."   
  
He nodded and went to the kitchen to pour me some. I followed and sat down   
on one of the stools on front of his counter. This was the hardest part.   
Knowing that I had to say something but not knowing how to say it. He handed   
me the coffee and I looked at him seriously over the rim of the cup as I took   
a long swallow.   
  
He saw me staring and took a step back, removing his glasses. "What is it?"   
  
"I had a vision last night," I sighed. I didn't know what to say next, so I   
fell silent.   
  
"Cordelia." His firm voice made me look back up at him and meet his eyes.   
Suddenly I was comfortable again, and I realized that Giles's eyes were a   
place of security for me. One of the only things in the last decade of my   
life that had always been steady and constant. I wanted to fall asleep and   
rest inside of his gaze. He looked back at me seriously. "Tell me."   
  
And then I was talking, laying out all of what I saw. I barely recognized my   
voice as I spoke, barely felt the words leave my mouth. I felt no fear or   
grief, no anxiety over what was to come. All that was left was his gaze,   
simple and clear, encouraging me to go on.   
  
When I had finished outlining what had been in my vision, Giles paused. "A   
crescent moon?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Waxing or waning?"   
  
"I usually don't remember details like that from my visions," I said   
apologetically. "I just know that I saw a reflection of the moon."   
  
"Reflection?"   
  
"Yeah..." I said, startled at that small insight. "In the middle of the   
circle of candles was a bowl of water."   
  
He nodded thoughtfully and then looked at me with a smile. "I think you just   
may have helped us very much indeed."   
  
"Really? More happiness than doom?"   
  
"Considerably. You may have pointed us in the direction of the spell that   
was happening-- I'm assuming that's what you saw. And if we can find that,   
we may know more about what's going to happen," he explained. That glazed,   
excited look that we all loved sparked in his eyes.   
  
And then, like a puff of smoke, my headache was completely gone. I smiled,   
surprised. Usually they lasted like a dull hammering in my brain for days   
after I had a vision.   
  
"We should wake everyone up then, right?"   
  
Giles hesitated for a moment and then shook his head. "We can let them sleep   
for a while yet." He looked over the room with a fond smile.   
  
It was then that I realized why we all loved him. It wasn't because he was   
smarter than us, or just because we all saw him as sort of a father figure in   
our unpredictable lives. It wasn't because of the big things he did every   
day to keep us alive. It was because of the small things, like letting us   
sleep when he knew we needed it, the small things that he allowed us because   
he cared for us so much. The subtle things that he did all of the time to   
show us how much, even if he never spoke his feelings out loud.   
  
I loved him dearly in that moment, loved him so much that my heart ached.   
Such a small thing, letting them sleep. Such a telling thing about who he   
was. Such a huge emotion behind everything that he did.   
  
"Thanks, Giles," I murmured without thinking.   
  
His cheeks reddened slightly. "They'll need the rest, I suppose," he   
muttered, as though trying to shrug off the feelings behind the thanks.   
  
But as he turned back to pour me another cup of coffee, he couldn't hide his   
smile. 


	14. Oz

~Oz~   
  
  
  
I guess none of us had realized how tired we were. When I woke up in the   
morning, Willow was still pressed against me, her fingers digging gently into   
my shirt. I slowly pulled myself away, careful not to wake her, and joined   
Giles and Cordelia in the kitchen where they were having coffee together.   
  
"Hey. What time is it?"   
  
Giles looked at his watch. "Almost nine."   
  
"Oh." I nodded towards the coffee maker. "Can I snag a cup? I was a little   
more tired than I thought I was and I need to get over to Mrs. Walter's house   
this morning to get those books." Giles handed me a cup of coffee and I took   
it gratefully.   
  
His mouth was open, dismay covered his face. "I should have woken you   
sooner," he apologized. "I... Stupidly let it slip my mind. As though I can   
afford to let anything slip my mind."   
  
"Maybe not stupidly," Cordelia suggested with a bright smile. "Maybe   
pleasantly."   
  
"Yeah," I agreed. "Maybe forgetting for a while will help you later on,   
Giles. You're looking a little ragged. No offense."   
  
He blinked slowly and then shook his head. "Ah, none taken."   
  
I finished off my coffee and then headed back over to Willow, giving her a   
kiss on the cheek before I started out the door. "I shouldn't be too long.   
It's a fifteen minute drive from here, and I thought I should pick up some   
clothes for Willow and I. Forty minutes, max."   
  
Giles smiled at me and Cordelia patted my arm. "Be safe," she said helpfully.   
  
"You too," I replied, trying to figure out what it was that was different   
about her this morning.   
  
Maybe I just wasn't used to her being helpful.   
* * * * * *   
  
I sped a little and got there in almost exactly ten minutes. Even though   
Giles had been trying to be patient, I could tell that he was anxious about   
what was going to happen and wanted these books as soon as possible. When I   
got to Mrs. Walters house, I started to knock and the door swung open.   
  
As though it hadn't been closed.   
  
The small hairs on the back of my neck started to raise. "Mrs. Walters?" I   
called out.   
  
Nothing responded. It was a simple quiet and I don't even know what alarmed   
me so much; people often forgot to shut their doors all of the way. Maybe it   
was my sixth sense. Maybe it was that it was *too* quiet, and I remembered   
that Mrs. Walter's had a dog. Stepping inside, I looked around, exhaling   
heavily. The house had been trashed.   
  
I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed in and out, calming myself.   
Burglars was the most reasonable conclusion to come to, but things had only   
been fairly reasonable in Sunnydale for the past four years. For a hundred   
years before that, nothing was. Keeping a lookout for anything ready to jump   
out at me, I walked through the house.   
  
When I got to the living room, I sighed with regret. I knew that smell.   
  
That was blood.   
  
Quickening my pace, I moved into the kitchen and was assaulted from all sides   
with the smell, tears springing to my eyes at what I saw. The smell was so   
strong, the scene so morbid that the coppery taste of the blood fell onto my   
tongue and I nearly gagged with anger and guilt, the stench of death choking   
me.   
  
Mrs. Walters was laying on the cold tile, her cheek-- or what was left of   
it-- pressing to the floor. A pool of dark, sticky blood surrounded her   
head, was splashed onto the walls. Even the ceiling was bathed in it. It   
was like a horror scene from one of those old Freddy movies. In all of my   
time in Sunnydale, I had never seen this sort of carnage.   
  
Both of her eyes were removed, gouged out, and she only had one finger left.   
Some of her skin had apparently been torn off, as well as handfuls of hair--   
ripped out of the scalp. The woman, middle-aged and once so pretty as I   
remember, had no teeth left, no discernible beauty. Her dog lay at her   
feet, dead of a broken neck.   
  
And two inches away from her hand, was a message that she wrote in her own   
blood.   
  
"Wolf," I read softly, "No tell hide cabinet help them."   
  
I heard a growl and turned around quickly, intending to kill whatever I saw   
before I realized that it was me growling. The pressure built in my chest   
and suddenly I was furious, completely enraged. So much that I saw my hand   
change to wolf form and struggled to fight it back. I could now half-wolf   
when I needed the extra strength, but if I lost control I knew there might be   
no going back. Don't lose control, I told myself harshly. You can't afford   
to.   
  
With a huge effort, I saw my hand transform and I backed out of the kitchen,   
shaking. Hide what cabinet? My eyes darted around the room frantically,   
looking for any sort of cabinet that had not been opened already in the   
search through her home. Flying from room to room and still seeing nothing,   
I ran out and got in my van as fast as I could.   
  
And I floored it.   
* * * * * * *   
  
When I got back, I ran into Giles's apartment and stopped, sucking in breath.   
The rest of the group, who had all woken up by then, looked up at me in   
surprise. I tried to focus my thoughts; they were all over the place.   
  
Willow got up, concern shading her eyes a darker green. She touched my   
cheek. "Oz. What is it? ...Tell me."   
  
I swallowed and then nodded. "Mrs. Walters was dead when I got there. I...   
I don't think I've seen anything like it before. She wrote me a note."   
  
"Before she died?" Giles raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Do you think   
she perhaps knew of her death before it happened?"   
  
"No." I shook my head, searching for the right words. "Right before she   
died was more like it. She reached out and wrote it in her own blood. 'Wolf   
no tell hide cabinet help them,'" I recited. "I looked around for the   
cabinet that she wanted me to... hide, I guess, but I didn't see anything   
that hadn't already been torn apart."   
  
Buffy thought for a moment, her eyes narrowed. "Are you sure it didn't say   
'hid' or 'hidden'?"   
  
I frowned. "Could have. It was hard to look at."   
  
Willow pulled me into her arms and I rested my cheek against her shoulder   
comfortably, my heart returning to its normal pace with her against me. I   
breathed in deeply-- that scent, strictly Willow, was home to me.   
  
"All right." Buffy nodded decisively. "Why don't you drive me back? You   
don't have to go in if you don't want to."   
  
"No, that's all right."   
  
"Do you want me to come?" Willow offered in a small voice.   
  
"No!" My answer came out louder than I intended and she flinched. I cursed   
at myself silently and touched her jaw. "I just mean... I don't want you to   
see that. You shouldn't have to."   
  
"Is it that bad?"   
  
I nodded, meeting her eyes. "Yeah."   
  
"Okay." She kissed me tenderly. "Hurry back."   
  
I smiled at her and Buffy tugged on my sleeve.   
  
And then we were off, to face something that neither of us wanted to face in   
the first place. 


	15. Angel

~Angel~   
  
  
  
As great as being with Buffy had been, I figured that the night would go   
downhill when I saw Xander staring at me, darting his eyes towards the door   
in a look that told me he wanted to talk to me alone. But as his subtle   
gesture began getting less subtle, I finally sighed and shrugged, lifting   
Buffy off my lap so that I could stand and walk out the door.   
  
A moment later, Xander joined me. "Hey."   
  
"Hi." I had trouble hiding the irritation in my voice. I had lifted the   
most beautiful woman in the world off of my lap to talk to him? "What's this   
about, Xander?"   
  
"I'm sorry about, you know, looking at you," he began. "I just wanted to   
talk to you about something. It's been bothering me for a while." He shoved   
his hands in his pockets awkwardly and wandered over to the small sitting   
table, sinking into a chair.   
  
"All right." I sighed. "Is this about Cordelia falling in love with me?"   
  
"What?!" he burst out.   
  
I cracked a smile. "That was a joke."   
  
He rolled his eyes heavenward. "I don't know which I should be more   
concerned about-- the fact that you made a joke, or the fact that you had to   
explain it to me." He paused, thinking, and then shrugged. "Anyway."   
  
"Yeah, okay." I walked over and sat across from him. "What's going on?"   
  
"I... Did something." He wasn't looking at me, and I smelled the distinct   
aroma of fear coursing through his blood. A thousand thoughts flashed   
through my mind at once-- what sort of thing could Xander have done to cause   
him to fear me? Other than my being a vampire, that is. "I did something   
that I think you should know about."   
  
I pushed back a growl, determined not to jump to any conclusions. "Which   
was?"   
  
"It was a long time ago." His voice was ashamed and his hands fiddled with   
each other. "When you were evil. You know, junior year when you and   
Buffy..."   
  
I grimaced, partly because I was annoyed that Xander had to be so privy to   
Buffy's and my private life and partly because I didn't like to think back on   
that time when I had hurt all of them so much. "Yes. I know. I remember."   
  
"Well, that night... The night you went to Hell..." He trailed off, his face   
white. His blood rushed faster through his veins. "I knew that Willow was   
going to do the curse. I went to tell Buffy."   
  
"And?"   
  
"And I told her to kick your ass instead," he confessed in a rush. "I looked   
at her and the words were on the tip of my tongue, but at the last second I   
thought of you and the words came out differently. I wished that I could   
take them back, later. I wished that I had given Buffy that choice, but I   
couldn't go back. None of us could."   
  
I looked at him incredulously. "And you've been carrying that around on your   
conscience for ten years?"   
  
"Yeah." He laughed weakly. "I wanted to say that I was sorry."   
  
All right. To be honest, I thought about stringing the boy along for a   
while. Making him feel guilty. It was that damn demon that I could never   
seem to quite tame. Either that, or payback for years of calling me Deadboy.   
But then I looked at him and remembered that I, too, knew what it was like   
to have a sin on your soul, a sin that you couldn't confess. And more than   
that, I knew what it was like to seek forgiveness and be pushed away.   
  
So I shook my head. "Xander, Buffy and I have both known about that for   
years. We figured it out, solved your evil plot."   
  
"You did?" he asked, confused.   
  
"Well, yeah." I lifted my shoulders. "Especially considering that Willow   
told Buffy what she told you to tell her, right after Buffy got back from   
her... Summer break."   
  
"Oh," he said quietly, looking embarrassed. "Well, still. I'm sorry that I   
did that. It was a stupid, selfish thing to do."   
  
"I don't think so," I disagreed calmly. Xander's eyes snapped up to mine.   
  
"Look, are you just messing around with me?"   
  
"Not at all." I paused, trying to find the right way to explain it to him.   
"Look. Hell was... Well, Hell. But I don't regret that Buffy went in there   
intending on killing me. I was a demon, pure and simple. If she had let her   
emotions get in the way, it would have been harder for her. After I pulled   
that sword out, she probably wouldn't have been able to fight as well as she   
did, knowing that I was about to get by soul back. I might have just played   
on her weakness and killed her. And... That would be a different, private   
kind of Hell. Maybe you thought of it as selfish, something you were doing   
for yourself-- because you hated me-- but I don't. I think that deep down,   
you might have known that Buffy could have gotten distracted that she might   
have waited too long if she was hoping for my soul to come back. I think you   
might have seen what I was doing to her, and wanted to spare her that   
anymore."   
  
He nodded slowly. "Well, I like that idea..."   
  
"But you still feel guilty?" I guessed.   
  
"A little."   
  
"Think of it this way," I said diplomatically, "What would you have rather   
happened that night?"   
  
"True enough," he acknowledged. "And there's been plenty of times since that   
I've wanted you dead."   
  
"You're forgiven," I smirked, "But don't push it."   
  
Xander smiled and nodded, standing. "It's a deal." He held out his hand and   
I took it after a moment of surprise, shaking it firmly.   
  
"No more Deadboy?" I asked as we began walking back to the apartment.   
  
He grinned. "I said I was sorry for the past. I didn't make any promises   
for the future."   
* * * * * *   
  
The night wound down and about an hour before sunrise, Buffy and I retreated   
to Giles's bedroom to sleep. Buffy carefully closed the curtains, making   
sure that no sunlight would stream in and burn me and then walked over,   
curling against my side. Her hands found my hair, absently playing with it.   
"This is nice."   
  
"Yes." I pulled down her hand and kissed her fingertips. "You should get   
some sleep. I know you're tired."   
  
"Only a little," she lied and then yawned, mid-sentence. She giggled softly.   
"Maybe a lot. But I don't want to..." She sighed. "Angel?"   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Can I ask you for something?"   
  
"Anything." My whisper was lost in the dark, but I felt Buffy's smile   
against my shoulder.   
  
"Will you promise to be here when I wake up?"   
  
My heart ached then, with that question and I realized that we had never   
woken up together after having made love. I had never even thought about   
what that must have been like for her, waking up alone when she should have   
been resting comfortably in my arms. That fear, that emptiness it must have   
brought. I held her a little closer, knowing that, while I couldn't right   
past wrongs, I could lessen future ones from happening.   
  
I kissed the top of her hair. "I promise."   
  
"Good." She snuggled against me, her breath warm and light on my cheek.   
"I'm going to kiss you now."   
  
"I'm not going to stop you," I smiled. Her laughter was feathery against my   
lips and she pressed her mouth to mine for a brief moment where all of my   
worries almost faded away.   
  
After a moment she pulled away and nestled in my arms again, her breath   
becoming slow and steady, like the beating of her heart.   
  
And just before the sun rose, I managed to fall asleep too.   
* * * * * *   
  
I woke up to find Buffy studying me silently. God, I could swim in that   
beautiful blue-green. I leaned up and kissed her warmly and she sighed   
against my mouth, her lashes grazing my cheek. When she pulled away, she   
smiled brightly. "Morning."   
  
"Morning. What time is it?"   
  
She grimaced. "Almost ten. Everyone else is already awake, I can hear   
them. We should get down there."   
  
"I know," I agreed heavily, indicating that I didn't want to leave where I   
was. Buffy laughed and slapped my thigh lightly.   
  
"Come on."   
  
"Curtains are closed?"   
  
She glanced downstairs and shook her head. "No. Give me just a minute."   
  
I watched her walk down the stairs, followed the lazy sway of her hips with   
my eyes and smiled to myself. At least I had managed to keep my promise.   
And although I knew it wouldn't ever match the kinds of things she did for   
me, it would have to do for now, until I could figure out a better way to   
make everything up to her.   
  
"All right!" she called up the stairs and I made my way down.   
  
Just as I reached the bottom, Oz threw open the door and stumbled inside.   
The rest of us exchanged looks and Willow walked over to him, calming him   
down until he explained that the woman who had been keeping the books Giles   
needed was now lying, dead, on her kitchen floor. I groaned inwardly. That   
poor woman.   
  
I *knew* things had been going too smoothly.   
  
Buffy met my eyes and silently indicated what she was going to do. With a   
sigh, I nodded, knowing that there was nothing that I could say that would   
keep her out of danger. All too quickly, they disappeared into the sunlight.   
  
Where I couldn't follow. 


	16. Buffy

~Buffy~   
  
  
  
The dreams had been getting worse. I hadn't had prophetic dreams in a long   
time, so I guess I was sort of out of practice at it. And they weren't   
specific, which annoyed the hell out of me. They were just horrifying. I   
woke up with such a feeling of terror every morning that I couldn't describe   
it if I wanted to.   
  
I hadn't told Giles because I had been having them for about a month before   
he called us all in to that meeting to explain what was going on again in   
Sunnydale, and I thought they were just nightmares. Vague, chaotic   
nightmares. With the sounds of screams and weeping and too-quick flashes of   
light and dark.   
  
I never slept really well, anyway.   
  
So when Oz came in that morning making an expression-- one of the worst   
expressions, I might add-- I wasn't even surprised. It all came with a sort   
of frightening familiarity to me, that this was going to happen. So I pulled   
on Oz's arm and asked him to take me where the woman had died. He didn't   
look all that happy to go back, but he complied.   
  
When we got there, before I even stepped inside the house, I could feel the   
presence of death. Okay, so maybe I wasn't as far off my game as I thought I   
was. Oz lifted his chin in the direction of the kitchen and I saw his   
nostrils flare-- whether he was scenting or just disturbed I couldn't tell.   
  
With a sigh I approached. And nearly gagged at what met my eyes.   
  
I had seen a lot of grotesque things in my line of work, things that haunt my   
dreams even now, but I had gotten out of the habit of expecting the worst and   
actually getting it.   
  
I tried not to look at the woman's broken, bloody body and instead studied   
the blood message on the floor. Just as I had hoped. There was a streak   
after the 'd' in 'hide' that could have been mistaken for an 'e.' I pointed   
it out to Oz. "See that? I think she was trying to tell us that she hid the   
cabinet."   
  
"All right," he said slowly, "Which leaves us the relatively easy task of   
finding the hidden cabinet. And of course I mean 'relatively easy' as in   
'really really hard.'"   
  
I nodded with a sigh. "Okay. Why don't you look through the bedrooms and   
I'll check out the kitchen and living room?"   
  
"Okay." As he moved into the back, I began wandering around the kitchen.   
Even through the gore of death and the giant mess that whoever killed her had   
created while looking for these books, I could see that her house was clean.   
The parts of the counters that weren't covered with blood were polished to a   
high shine. The carpet in the living room, though covered with books and   
papers and clothes, had been freshly vacuumed. I wondered about what kind of   
a person she was for a moment and then shook off the thought-- no matter how   
bad I might feel about her death, I couldn't do anything about it right then   
and should be focusing on finding the books anyway.   
  
I took a cursory glance under the sink, in the drawers that had been torn out   
and in the cupboards above the counter, but saw nothing but cleaning   
supplies, silverware and dishes. Maybe she hadn't even hidden them here.   
Maybe there was another place, somewhere far away, that she hadn't had the   
chance to write about before she died.   
  
I took a long glance out of the French doors that led outside to her peaceful   
backyard, wishing that I could just walk around out there for a long time,   
swing in her hammock, and forget the problems of the world-- literally-- for   
a while. She had a beautiful garden, bright flower colors and rich, turned   
soil.   
  
I heard Oz rustling around in one of the bedrooms and snapped out of my   
little reverie, feeling ashamed. Walking into the den, I checked through the   
desk and on the shelves, even knocking on the walls to check for   
hollow-sounding places, but found nothing.   
  
After a while of this Oz returned, his eyes defeated. "Sorry."   
  
"No, me too," I shrugged apologetically. "They might have already found it,   
might've even been here when she wrote the message. Probably, as a matter of   
fact. We should go, tell Giles. Maybe there's a spell or something that   
Willow and he can do to find out where the books are."   
  
"Probably a bunch of different types of locator spells," Oz agreed as he   
followed me out, "But Giles would have probably thought of that if it was   
possible before asking me to call around for the books. Unless he just   
really wanted us all to work for our lives."   
  
I let myself smile. "He does enjoy watching us research until we can't see   
through the bored, sleepy tears in our eyes. I think he still has a little   
bit of Ripper left."   
  
"Oh, I'm sure of it." Oz smiled back at me, and for a moment everything felt   
almost okay again. We were just two friends, joking with each other, on our   
way to another friend's house. Everything that we had seen in that house   
seemed almost like a bad dream, like something that never really happened.   
  
Almost.   
  
As we got into the van, I stopped for some reason, glancing behind me. Oz   
looked at me. "What is it?"   
  
"I don't know." The feeling was hard to describe. A hesitation in leaving,   
a fear of what would happen once I did. "It's like when you go on vacation   
and you know you've left something at home," I murmured. "Maybe you forgot   
your toothbrush or left the iron on, but you just don't know. You know?"   
  
"Hmm." He narrowed his eyes, looking back at the house. "I know what you   
*mean*, but..."   
  
"But you don't feel it?"   
  
"Sorry."   
  
"No, it's probably me just being paranoid." I shrugged and hopped in. Oz   
started the engine and then turned it off as we heard a small ring. We   
exchanged surprised looks for a minute and then laughed as Oz reached across   
me to the glove box and pulled out a cell phone.   
  
"I forget that I have it sometimes," he explained, switching it on. "Hello?   
...Yeah, here she is." He handed the phone to me. "Giles."   
  
"Hey. What's going on?"   
  
"Well, I just ran across..." Giles paused, and I could hear papers rustling   
in the background. "Have you found them yet?"   
  
"No. We were just on our way back, we think they've been taken. What did   
you run across?"   
  
"Translated, I should say," he corrected himself. "I wasn't certain of the   
language it was in before, but I figured it out this morning. Anyhow. It   
says, about the scrolls, that death shall point the way. I thought that   
might assist you in some way."   
  
Something clicked in the back of my mind and I stepped back out of the van.   
"Yeah. It does." Without further explanation-- I knew he wouldn't need it--   
I ended the connection and walked back into the house, directly into the   
kitchen. Oz joined me a moment later.   
  
"Buffy? What is it?"   
  
"I thought that there was something missing from this," I said, gesturing to   
the body. "Giles said that death shall point the way."   
  
He followed my gaze. "Do you mean literally?"   
  
"It couldn't hurt to think so."   
  
She had one remaining finger on her hands, and it pointed to the doors   
leading outside. Slowly, working it out in my head, I explained my thoughts   
to Oz. "I thought that there was... Notice how her hand is about two feet   
from where she must've written the message?"   
  
He lifted his head in acknowledgment. "So outside we go?"   
  
I sighed. "Outside we go." 


	17. Giles

~Giles~   
  
  
  
I hung up the phone and looked at Willow. "You seem to have caught that at   
the precise moment it was needed. Well done."   
  
Her smile was warm and she touched my hand gently. "You were the one who   
translated it correctly, Giles. I just noticed the small error in the   
notes." She lifted her shoulders slightly. "Either way, finding something   
at the exact moment we need to find it is always a good. Are Oz and Buffy   
okay?"   
  
"Yes. Buffy seemed to have an idea when I told her about the translation.   
They shouldn't be too long," I assured her and then nodded when her eyes   
continued to remain cloudy and worried. "They will be all right, Willow."   
  
Willow sighed heavily, walking over to Xander and sitting down next to him.   
I watched, fascinated, as she moved her hand up to clasp his even before he   
had settled it on her shoulder, as though she knew his every movement before   
it happened. "I know. I'm just a little high-strung."   
  
"You have reason to be," Angel said calmly from the darkest corner of the   
room.   
  
Xander rolled his eyes. "If that was meant to make us feel better, I want to   
make sure that you know that it doesn't."   
  
"I just meant that no one can blame her for being tense," Angel said dryly,   
darting Xander a slightly annoyed look. "I didn't mean..."   
  
I chose that moment to interrupt, realizing that everyone's nerves were on   
edge and an argument could easily erupt from their habitual banter. "Yes,   
let's not jump to any conclusions. Angel, do you need something to drink?   
Xander, Willow?"   
  
Xander and Willow shook their heads casually, the subject dropping, but Angel   
looked mildly uncomfortable. "I'm good," he said after a moment.   
  
"Are you sure?" I offered, curious at his behavior, "I have some blood in my   
refrigerator if you need..."   
  
"How can you...?" He looked at me strangely and then shook his head. "Never   
mind."   
  
It suddenly struck me and the absurdity of how I could have forgotten almost   
made me laugh. I settled for smiling at the forlorn vampire. "Angel, you   
have nothing to be ashamed of..." I paused for a moment. "Well, you have   
plenty to be ashamed of I suppose, but not about what you are. And not for   
what you've been for the past ten years. We've all come to accept who you   
are. It truly didn't occur to me to be uncomfortable with..."   
  
"I'm sorry." He stood abruptly, his eyes dark. "Excuse me."   
  
He walked up the stairs quickly and I watched his departing back, bewildered.   
I turned to look at Xander and Willow, both of whom were staring back at me   
with widened eyes. Willow bit her lip. "Would you like me to follow him?"   
  
"Perhaps I should," I murmured, turning.   
  
"Should what?" Cordelia emerged from the bathroom with her hair wet, a cloud   
of steam billowing behind her. "Where did Angel go?"   
  
"I think I may have said something that could have offended him," I admitted   
hesitantly. "I offered him some blood and he left the room."   
  
"The man has eating disorders, I guess," Xander said with a crooked smile.   
Cordelia threw him a glare and then turned to me.   
  
"I'm sure it's not you, Giles," she said gently. "He just has some...   
Issues, I guess. I'll go after him. Don't worry."   
  
She climbed the stairs and then the silence settled over the room. The three   
of us glanced at each other awkwardly. After a moment, Willow spoke up. "I   
think I would like something, Giles. Tea?" I nodded, grateful for something   
to do and moved into the kitchen. I heard Xander cleared his throat and   
then Willow spoke up again. "Xander wants a Pepsi if it's not too much   
trouble."   
  
I halted, setting the cups down on the counter, and slowly made my way back   
into the living room. I looked at them. "Has something happened?"   
  
Xander shrugged innocently, kneading a spot on Willow's shoulder. "Feel   
better?" he murmured to her. She nodded and he turned to me. "What do you   
mean?"   
  
"I mean with the two of you," I clarified, my confusion mounting with each   
second that passed. "You seem... Somehow in sync with each other in a way   
that I've never noticed before."   
  
"We've just known each other our whole lives," Willow said, throwing a warm   
glance at Xander. "You learn things after over twenty years of friendship."   
  
It still seemed a bit suspicious to me. "And that's all?"   
  
They looked at each other and then back at me. "That's all," they said in   
unison before laughing.   
  
I smirked, sure that there was something happening that I couldn't see with   
my own eyes but decided not to pursue the subject any further; they weren't   
going to tell me anything. "All right."   
  
I finished making the tea and poured Xander a soda and went back into the   
living room. We sat in silence for a while, sipping our drinks, comfortable   
in the friendship that we shared. At length, Cordelia and Angel descended   
the stairs, and Angel looked quietly ashamed. "Giles?" He cleared his   
throat. "You said that you have blood?"   
  
"Yes." I stood back up. "Would you like me to get it for you?"   
  
"No, thanks. I can." He hurriedly went into the kitchen and came out a   
moment later, his face changed into that of a vampire's true visage and   
swallowed the blood down from a glass. Cordelia smiled at him proudly and he   
glared back at her, but there was a hint of a smile around the edge of his   
blood-reddened mouth.   
  
I smiled. "Please just tell me if you need any more. I believe that's the   
last of it, but I could get some."   
  
Angel looked back at me, subdued, and nodded. "Thank you."   
  
Just then, Buffy and Oz opened the door, stumbling inside. Quickly they set   
down a large wooden box and then paused to shake themselves off. Large   
amounts of dirt fell to my floor and Buffy looked up sheepishly. "The woman   
didn't have a shovel," she explained.   
  
I shook my head, my eyes resting on the box they had carried in. It was made   
of heavy mahogany, inlaid with three large jewels on the lid. I walked over   
and touched the smooth surface with my fingertips, closing my eyes with   
relief.   
  
We would finally have our answers. 


	18. Willow

~Willow~   
  
  
  
I suppose a lot of things happened that night that none of us could   
explain... And a lot of things that we would never share. Well, mine was a   
dream.   
  
I dreamed of myself in the high school library. For a while, I walked around   
without really knowing what I was doing there... Just walking, touching the   
books, remembering times that we stayed there all night. The strangest thing   
about those moments was that I didn't feel any surprise that the library was   
standing when we had blown it up so long ago. It seemed fitting. It seemed   
right.   
  
I walked up the steps and looked through the stacks until I found myself   
standing in the place where Xander and I shared our second kiss.   
  
"It's sort of funny, if you think about it now. Isn't it?" I turned and   
saw him standing behind me with a small grin on his face. "That we kept   
getting it wrong all of those years."   
  
"Yeah." We shared a small laugh. "Loving you as deeply as I do isn't the   
same as being in love with you. I know that now. It just took me a long   
while to learn. Why are you here?"   
  
He shook his head slowly, fondness lighting his eyes. "I'm not. I'm in my   
own dream. So are you."   
  
I rolled my eyes. "Why are you here?" I repeated, with a pointed glance.   
  
"Why do you think?" he countered.   
  
I gazed at him for a moment and then, without thinking, flew into his waiting   
arms. He wound them around me tightly and I sighed into his shoulder,   
feeling safe. Pressed against him like that, cloaked in the intimacy of   
friendship and love, I didn't need to ask any more questions. I knew why he   
was there.   
  
Because he was always there.   
  
We'd been through so many things together... Not just the vampire slaying and   
the near death every single night, not just the misunderstandings of young   
hearts or the maybe five fights we had through our entire relationship. No,   
we had been through the years together. Xander and I went all the way back   
to "Remember when...?" He knew me. He knew me as well as I knew myself.   
  
The moment with him in my arms would have been almost awkward if I hadn't   
been blessed with the one small scrap of knowledge that, deep down, I had   
always really known.   
  
"You're my best friend, Will," he murmured into my hair.   
  
My heart was warm for him. "You're mine."   
  
I woke with a start, and found Xander looking at me in surprise from the   
opposite chair. His eyes were sleepy and confused and he started to ask me a   
question but I shook my head.   
  
He managed to ask it later, after Buffy and Oz had left. "Where were you?"   
  
"The library," I said simply.   
  
He smirked. "You were always bookish, Will."   
  
"You?"   
  
"The playground." I nodded, understanding; we had spent most of our   
childhood there. "It was..."   
  
"Intense," I finished for him. "Yeah, it was."   
  
His eyes were soft, gazing at me with affection. "It was true, you know."   
  
"Do you even have to ask?" I laughed, hugging him quickly before Giles came   
back into the room.   
  
He kissed me on the cheek. "Not anymore."   
* * * * * *   
  
My heart was beating fast as Giles pried open the heavy lid of the box.   
Buffy came down the steps, clean and in a new change of clothes and smirked   
at him for a moment before going to stand beside him. "Here, let me." With   
what looked like an effortless twist of her wrist, she lifted the lid and it   
crashed to the table.   
  
Giles worked for a minute at catching his breath and then lifted his eyebrows   
at her. "Thank you."   
  
She grinned. "You're always welcome."   
  
With a nod, Giles turned back to the box and lifted out a single piece of   
notebook paper. His eyebrows furrowed. "Dear boy," he read aloud, "I do not   
pretend to know why you need these; I only know that they are important. And   
they are dangerous. Your family are good people, as are those you associate   
with, and so I shall entrust these sacred texts into your care, and into your   
care only. I will bury them for safety. I write this note now in case   
something happens as so often used to in Sunnydale. I have seen signs of   
death, my own or someone else's I can't be sure. Read them carefully. Use   
what you can from them. Give your help to those who need it."   
  
I stepped over to Oz and gripped his hand in mine. His eyes were distant and   
hurting for this woman who he only knew slightly. The love for him I had   
burned in my breast and I suddenly want to kiss away every piece of fear or   
guilt he had ever known. He turned his eyes to me and they cleared. "I love   
you."   
  
"I love you too," I whispered, feeling the words with every single part of   
me. I leaned forward to kiss him gently on the corner of his mouth and he   
gave me a sad smile, opening his mouth to speak.   
  
Giles's soft "Ahhh...." interrupted whatever he was going to say and we both   
turned to look at him.   
  
He was carefully lifting out the books that we needed. There were three of   
them, with deep brown covers and pretty thick leather pages that crumbled at   
the yellowed edges. The letters had a golden hue and were slightly raised in   
some spots. They were obviously some of the most well-preserved ancient texts   
we had come across through the years. Giles began reverently flipping   
through one, raising his eyebrows at me.   
  
I smiled and picked up one of them, and Angel did the same. I started to   
look through mine, but paused for a moment. "Um, Giles?"   
  
"Yes?" he mumbled distractedly.   
  
"What, exactly, are we looking for?"   
  
"Oh." His smile was sheepish. "Any mention of the Old Ones, and a spell   
that casts them out. If something sounds familiar to you in the slightest,   
then read it thoroughly."   
  
I grinned at him as I saw Buffy's eyes twinkle. She winked at me and I could   
practically hear her voice inside my head saying "Same old Giles. Gotta love   
him." And if that's what she was thinking, she was right. It's hard not to   
love a man who just sort of assumes that you can read his mind and then is   
adorably flustered when he realizes that he has to tell us out loud.   
  
I flipped through the pages halfheartedly, unsure of what I was looking for.   
Almost every page had a mention of the Old Ones, of their power. But most of   
it was the basic ominous sounding 'they will rise' kind of thing. I mumbled   
this to Giles who mumbled back that we'd find what we were looking for.   
  
Boredom and fascination, and minutes and hours seemed to melt into each other   
then. Some of the text was in different languages, Latin and Greek and   
Gaelic and was hard to decipher. I tore my eyes away from the pages and   
smiled warmly at Oz as he began to rub my temples gently, sensing my   
frustration.   
  
When I finally glanced at the clock, I was shocked to see that the sun was   
going to be setting soon. Days now, possibly less, for us to find out what   
was going to happen with our collective fate.   
  
Maybe nights would work better than days in that sentence.   
  
The nights were always longer in Sunnydale. 


	19. Xander

~Xander~   
  
  
  
I still sometimes think about how my life might have turned out differently.   
There are a bunch of 'what if's that go through my mind, a bunch of questions   
that I don't bother saying out loud because I know I'll never know the   
answers to them. As I watched Willow flip through the pages of those   
way-too-hard-to-find scrolls, and remembered the dream I had, though, I knew   
that those questions didn't really matter anymore.   
  
Everyone wonders about what could be different. The point of it was, even   
though I still thought about things like that, I was content with my life. I   
was in love with a beautiful, strong woman, and was lucky enough to have her   
love me back. I'd had an exciting life, filled with things that most people   
don't even believe are real or possible. I had people who cared about me,   
who were willing to sacrifice everything for me. And I had a best friend-- a   
real best friend, the kind that knows your every thought and gesture before   
it's said and done, the kind that spent years studying you, helping you,   
laughing with you, holding you and loving you.   
  
As a matter of fact, I had a lot of best friends.   
  
How many people can say that about their lives?   
  
My mind again flashed to the dream I had the previous night. I had been   
walking in the playground that Willow and I used to frequent when we were   
little kids, and laughing to myself about how many of my dreams tended to   
take place in that spot. It wasn't like any other dream I'd had before; I   
knew it was a dream and still didn't try to wake myself up.   
  
I sat down on the edge of the merry-go-round and dug my feet into the sand   
underfoot, pushing myself a little. The merry-go-round drifted lightly and I   
looked up at the sky, seeing the most blue blue I had ever seen. I heard   
laughter and glanced back down to see a little blond girl leaping off the   
swings, her hair flying behind her and shining like the sun. Willow, at six   
or seven years old, clapped her hands and squealed and then turned to me.   
  
Suddenly her child self was gone and she stood next to me, her bright eyes   
leveled on mine.   
  
"I was waiting for you," I said quietly.   
  
She laughed, shaking her head. "No you weren't."   
  
"Yes I was," I insisted. "I've been waiting for you forever."   
  
"Xander." She used that tone that she always uses when something is   
completely obvious and I'm still missing it entirely. "Why do you think you   
were waiting? I was always right here."   
  
"In the playground?" I smiled.   
  
Her eyes twinkled. "What better place?" After a moment of silence, her face   
grew serious. "We're not in the playground, you know."   
  
"Where are we then?" I don't even know why I asked-- I already knew the   
answer. But I guess some part of me needed to hear her say it.   
  
Willow drifted close to me, until we were inches apart. She lifted her hand,   
placing it against my chest, and met my eyes. "We're in your heart. This is   
where you keep everything that you've always known was real and true and   
forever in your life. This is where you keep me."   
  
"Yes," I said simply, my voice hoarse. "I love you, Willow. If you weren't   
mine, I wouldn't think that friends like you really existed. ...You're my   
best friend."   
  
"I love you too," she replied, her voice barely a sigh. She slipped into my   
arms and I held her as tightly as I could, kissing the top of her head as she   
breathed against me. A giggle escaped her. "This sure took us long enough   
to get out, didn't it?"   
  
"No, it didn't," I said, surprising myself. "We've been getting it out it   
for over twenty years... Just not out loud, not like this. But that doesn't   
make it any less special."   
  
She nodded, a smile playing around the corner of her mouth. "Exactly."   
  
There have been dreams that I've remembered before. Ones that I've had over   
ten years ago that I think about to this day. But I knew that this one was   
the most important of them all, the one that would remain with me until I   
didn't dream anymore.   
  
"Xander?"   
  
I looked up to see Cordelia staring at me. "What? What's going on?"   
  
Her brow furrowed. "Nothing. You were just.... Miles away. Galaxies away.   
Galaxies far, far away."   
  
I grinned. "You know it's not fair to use my Star Wars obsession against   
me." I took her hand and pulled her close, kissing her firmly. "I was   
thoughts away. And that's the farthest I ever want to be from you."   
  
She studied me for a moment, almost as though weighing the honesty of my   
statement, and then her face relaxed in a smile, giving me a flash of her   
faint dimple. "That's the farthest I'm ever going to let you get," she   
declared. "Except when I'm upset with you."   
  
"So we're breaking up then?" I hid my smile and she smacked my arm. "What?   
You're almost always upset with me!"   
  
"Yeah, well, you almost always deserve it," she mumbled, leaning into me.   
Her hair brushed my chin and I caught the scent of her fruity shampoo and   
paused to inhale it further. As strong as she was, as annoying as she could   
be, she somehow always managed to be strictly feminine, and I enjoyed the   
moments where I got to think about that.   
  
Well, not just think about it....   
  
As if she could read my thoughts, she pulled away and hit me lightly again,   
raising her eyebrows and glancing around pointedly. I nodded, letting my   
eyes linger on her face, and kissed her again briefly before turning to look   
back at the group.   
  
I kept my voice low. "What happened with Angel?"   
  
She sighed. "He got used to eating in front of Wesley and I when we were all   
working together... But I guess it's different here. As much as he cares   
about Buffy and Giles and everyone, they're also reminders of the worst that   
he can be and he's having a hard time believing that you all don't have a   
problem seeing him feed, seeing that side of him. It'll take a little time."   
  
What if there isn't any time? I wondered to myself, my chest aching suddenly.   
  
  
Willow's voice cut through the thought. "Hey, Giles."   
  
He glanced up from his own book. "Yes?"   
  
"What about this?" She bit her lip gently, her eyes scanning the page in   
front of her. "'Among the dead the dead shall rise. The New shall become   
the Old and the power shall shift among them."   
  
Giles pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Very interesting.   
Perhaps a spell to raise dusted vampires?"   
  
"Like with what happened to Darla?" Cordelia asked.   
  
"Perhaps."   
  
"I don't think so," Angel said. "Maybe a possession of their souls. The   
real danger in the Old Ones isn't their bodies but the knowledge of dark   
magicks and such that they possessed. From what we know so far, it seems as   
though this will happen quickly and the spell to revive a dusted vampire   
takes a while. Besides that, they don't have the needed scrolls."   
  
Giles frowned, nodding slightly to Angel, and turned back to his book and   
silence blanketed the room again. I sighed, giving Cordelia's hand a squeeze   
and then turned back to my own research, feeling uncomfortable.   
  
Somehow no news was worse than bad news right now. 


	20. Cordelia

~Cordelia~  
  
  
  
I was exhausted. That was the only word I could really think of to describe   
how I felt. Every part of me, even inside my soul, was so tired that I could   
barely see straight. I let the research book I was holding fall off my lap   
and I leaned back in the chair, staring out the window at the fading light of   
the sky.   
  
I wasn't cold, but I suddenly had the urge to shiver. It was going to get   
dark tonight. Dark and cold and still. I hated nights like the one that was   
coming. They made me lonely.   
  
They scared me.  
  
Xander patted my hand and I looked at him. His eyebrows were drawn together,   
his eyes dark with worry. "You okay?"  
  
"Tired," I murmured, squeezing his hand. "But... Not. I'm more mentally and   
emotionally tired, I think."  
  
"All right." He nodded and then tugged on my hand slightly. "Come on."  
  
"What?" I stood, looking around in confusion. "Where are we going?"  
  
"You're going out," Giles answered me without looking up from his book.   
"It's best that you rejuvenate yourself. It won't do us any good to have you   
falling asleep or not concentrating as well as you could be when we go into   
battle."  
  
I glanced at Xander, who grinned. "What he said," he shrugged.  
  
I suppressed a yawn and stood, allowing Xander to pull me out the door. It   
was quiet outside, and getting pretty dark. I sighed.   
  
"Head hurt?" he asked casually, swinging my hand in his as we walked around   
the courtyard. It was almost funny-- if I hadn't known what was happening   
and had seen us just then, I would have thought we were just a typical couple   
in love, out for a walk. But we were anything but typical.  
  
"Sort of," I admitted.  
  
"How long?"  
  
"Since yesterday morning." I sucked in some breath, looking up at the stars.   
"It's not as bad now, though. Just a dull ache that I can't quite get rid   
of."  
  
There was a noticeable pause and I glanced at him. His eyes were on his   
shoes. After a moment he mumbled, "I wasn't really there for the most...   
notable moments of the vision thing, so I'm just sort of going to hope that   
you'll give me an honest answer instead of trying to protect me. Should I be   
worried?"  
  
I stopped walking and turned to him. When he still didn't look at me, I   
reached up to lift his chin, wanting to see his eyes. He turned his gaze on   
me and I shivered. "I would tell you if you should be worried. You should,   
actually. But not about the headache. All I can say is that something bad   
is coming, Xander. We're not going to be prepared for it. At least not as   
prepared as we'll need to be. Something bad is coming and we won't win like   
we normally do, if we win at all."  
  
He drew me closer, fitting my body to his, and kissed me lightly on the   
temple. "You saw all of that in your vision?"  
  
I dug my fingernails gently into the shoulder of his shirt, liking the   
security I felt when I was in his arms. "No," I whispered in a moment. "I   
don't know how I know... Maybe a side effect of getting the visions at all.   
But it's there. It's hanging over us. We can't escape it. Like death."  
  
He tensed and his grip on me tightened. "No," he murmured and I could hear   
the fear in his voice. Fear for me, for him. Fear for every one of the   
people that we've loved so dearly these past unbelievable, terrifying and   
magical years in our lives.  
  
I didn't want to say it, but the word escaped my mouth.   
  
"Yes."  
* * * * * * *  
  
For what seemed like a long time we sat outside, on the bench around the   
fountain. It was night but for some weird reason I felt completely safe.   
Impending doom everywhere and I felt totally taken care of, wouldn't you know   
it? Maybe it was the calm before the storm. Maybe I knew that.   
  
Maybe we all did.  
  
When we went back inside, we fell silent at the sight that greeted us. Giles   
was still reading, his glasses slightly askew. Buffy's back was leaning   
against his shoulder, her eyes closed, her feet propped up on Angel's lap   
where he kneaded them gently. Willow and Oz lay curled together in Giles's   
overstuffed chair, glancing through two fat books and fighting back yawns of   
their own.   
  
It seemed comfortable. A place I've known my entire life. Where everyone   
knew my name. My goodness, it was the damn Cheers bar.  
  
And still the air trembled. 


	21. Oz

~Oz~   
  
  
  
I can count the number of times in my life that I've been scared-- truly   
terrified-- on both hands. Which seems like a lot, I suppose, unless it was   
to someone I've lived my life with.   
  
This was one of those times.  
  
We weren't in any immediate danger. I couldn't even describe what kind of   
future danger we were facing. I only knew that we were facing it. It was a   
faceless, unnamed terror looming over us, waiting for our blood to spill. I   
paused from flipping through my book-- the book that I wasn't really reading   
but should have been-- to hug Willow a little bit closer to me. She adjusted   
in my arms quickly, as though she had been waiting for me to do that; to   
offer a comfort that we both needed.   
  
The whole situation was surreal. Which, don't get me wrong, is usually   
something that I like. I'm sort of surreal myself sometimes. But there was   
darkness now. Darkness attached to the day and night, making the laughter   
and friendship seem out of place.  
  
Although... What better time for it?  
  
Cordelia and Xander came back inside and were quiet for a while, sitting   
down. After a while, she leaned forward and picked up a book and silently   
stroked the thick pages of it. Her eyes glittered with tears. Soon she   
stopped, though, and looked up at Giles curiously. "These feel more like   
leather than pages. Even the crusty pages of most of your old books."  
  
He nodded without even looking up. "They are. Leather, that is."  
  
"Really?" Her hand continued feeling the page. "It's so soft. What kind?"  
  
Finally he glanced at her, and I saw him fight to keep the corners of his   
mouth from curving up. "The Pudendum Scrolls pages were made from one   
hundred different types of virgin species genitalia. In some creatures'   
society it was considered a great honor to sacrifice your own flesh to   
compose--"  
  
The book thudding heavily back onto the table interrupted him. Cordelia's   
eyes were slits, her mouth tight as she stared at Giles. Her lip curled up   
in disgust. "I.... Hate you."  
  
Willow laughed beside me and tried to disguise the sound as a cough, which   
didn't work. Buffy snickered and even Xander turned his head away from her   
to grin. Giles's eyes glimmered merrily before calmly turning back to his   
reading.  
  
Cordelia stood and began walking into the back. "I have to wash my hands   
now."  
* * * * * *  
  
The night grew longer. And with it, our impatience grew. I was having   
trouble concealing my worry. Which I guess can be considered a pretty big   
thing, since I usually have no trouble concealing any of my emotions.  
  
Except for my love of Willow, of course.  
  
As her name flew into my mind, I looked up at her. Her hair was flowing   
freely past her shoulders. Silky and auburn, like it was when I first saw   
her, I had the sudden urge to reach out and slip my fingers through it. An   
urge I squelched right away. I tried to berate myself about the appropriate   
time for public displays of affection or adoration-- probably not during   
'we're about to die' time-- but it was useless. She was too pretty.  
  
Finally, with a sigh, I allowed myself to lean over and kiss her gently, near   
her mouth. She glanced at me in surprise and I saw the beautiful pink blush   
fill her cheeks.   
  
Heaven help me. I'm nearly thirty and still feel like a teenaged werewolf   
when I look at her.  
  
She started toward me for what I hoped to be a firmer kiss directly *on* the   
mouth this time, when Giles' sharp intake of breath caused us to look up. He   
took off his glasses and stared at the page in front of him.  
  
Buffy pulled out of her comfortable position leaning against him and studied   
his face. "What is it, Giles?"  
  
He waved his hand impatiently at her, still reading and after a moment looked   
up, replacing his glasses. "I think I know what's going to happen."  
  
There was silence for what seemed like the longest second in history and   
finally Xander said, "Well, who's going to ask?" He gave a nervous grin.  
  
"What's going to happen?" Buffy asked quietly.  
  
"The hand of good," he read aloud slowly, "shall fight the army of demons for   
the Power of the Old Ones." He paused for a moment looking at each of us   
anxiously. "There are two kinds of of each power," he explained. "One is   
the ultimate good, the oldest of old, created to balance the dark side. One   
is the ultimate evil. I assume that who ever prevails in the fight will be   
filled with the power of the side they fight for."  
  
"When?" Angel asked as Giles trailed off.  
  
"Well, from what Cordelia saw in her vision and what it says here, I think we   
can safely say... Tomorrow night." His eyes landed on each of us before he   
looked down. He seemed to want to go on but remained silent.  
  
"What about the spell Cordelia saw us performing?" Willow spoke up.  
  
"Yes, that may help." Giles cleared his throat. "Cordelia, why don't you go   
over the specifics again with Willow and myself and we'll see what spell we   
can drum up for the coming..." He sighed. "For tomorrow."  
  
Cordelia spread her hands out apologetically. "I wish I could tell you more.   
Circle of candles, crescent moon, bowl of water in the middle. Headache   
that went away for a few hours and then returned when I wasn't looking." She   
paused, her next words shaky. "Blood. Fear. Pain."  
  
Suddenly, Willow smiled so openly and brightly that we all turned to her in   
surprise. Giles nodded toward her expectantly. "Yes?"  
  
"Well, it's just..." her voice was excited, and a little astonished. "Why   
didn't you tell me about this before?"  
  
"I-I'm sorry," Giles got out, looking like he wanted to slap his forehead.   
"I've had other... I'm sorry."  
  
"No, it's okay," Willow said hurriedly, waving away his apology, "It's just   
that that spell is a simple protection ritual. It's kind of like the spell   
we performed with Buffy during freshmen year of college only instead of   
imbibing her with our individual spirits-- which, as we learned later that   
night can be dangerous-- we'd be lending her, and whoever else was fighting,   
our strength. It's dangerous in it's own right, very as a matter of fact; it   
can kill. But done right, I think it could work. It doesn't ensure   
protection of the fighter, but..."  
  
"But it could help me a lot," Buffy finished. She stopped, running a hand   
nervously through her hair. "Is it just dangerous to me or to all of you? I   
don't want you guys putting yourself in the line of..."  
  
"You don't really have a choice," Giles interrupted, his voice a deadly calm.  
  
"Not with me, either," Angel spoke up, rubbing her knee.   
  
Xander looked amused. "And you think you're going to try to leave me out of   
it?"  
  
"Or me?" Willow added.  
  
"I'm in," I shrugged. "I like a good party as well as anyone here."  
  
Finally Cordelia sighed heavily. "Well, I've already touched demon poop and   
demon genitalia, I might as well lend you my strength. It's less yicky, at   
least."  
  
Buffy's eyes shined. "Thank you guys."  
  
Angel kissed the top of her head. "Thank us when we win." 


	22. Angel

~Angel~   
  
  
  
After Willow had laid out the spell and she and Giles had collected the right   
ingredients, Giles sighed and looked at his watch. "I think we should all be   
getting some sleep. It's fairly late and we've all been up for far too long,   
and we need to reserve our energy..."   
  
Buffy's mouth curved up in a weary smile and had my heart been beating, it   
would have skipped a little. Her eyes found his. "I think so. Especially   
considering that you've said something to that effect nearly every hour for   
the past day."   
  
He chuckled softly and nodded. "Well, everyone, go home. Go to sleep. We   
should meet here tomorrow afternoon. I'll call if anything else arises that   
we need to discuss."   
  
"I hope not," Willow spoke up, her voice firm. "I hope you won't even know.   
Because you'll be getting sleep too, right?" She paused. "Right??"   
  
Cordelia's brow furrowed. "Yeah. What were you saying about how much sleep   
you got in high school?" She cocked her head pointedly.   
  
"Fine, fine." He sighed again, a longer sigh that sounded almost like a   
yawn. "I'll sleep too. I give you all my word."   
  
He left it at that, but I heard his pulse speed up a little, saw the corner   
of his mouth pull up. He liked that they worried about him. I enjoyed that   
about him. Could almost hear him thinking, 'My girls worry about me.' Which   
was nice.   
  
Old fashioned, but nice.   
  
Buffy rubbed my knee then, though, and I forgot about thoughts of Giles. Her   
voice was low. "My place?"   
  
I nodded, my throat caught. We both knew that we couldn't do anything. Not   
anything as intimate as we'd like it to be, but the very thought of being   
with her... Being really alone with her, close to her, was almost as good.   
...Almost.   
  
And that would have to do.   
* * * * * *   
  
We didn't speak when we got back to her apartment. She silently led me to   
her bedroom by the hand and then paused, waiting for a reaction. I didn't   
know which one, but I smiled at her, pleased with how inviting her home was,   
how like her, filled with little touches that only she would think to bring   
in. I smiled because I was suddenly surrounded by things covered in her   
scent. I smiled because the moonlight streaming through the windows   
reflected in her eyes, causing them to twinkle.   
  
I smiled because I was with her.   
  
I guess a smile was what she was looking for because she nodded and lifted   
her hands to my chest and began calmly unbuttoning my shirt. When it was   
unbuttoned she slid it off my shoulders, looking peaceful, looking like it   
was the most natural thing in the world. And then she waited again.   
  
After a moments hesitation, I slowly lifted her light sweater over her head,   
my fingertips grazing the golden silk of her skin. Her hair tumbled out of   
its clip, falling loosely around her shoulders. Buffy smiled, unbuckled my   
belt and then unzipped her own skirt and stepped out of it. I kicked off my   
shoes and pulled my belt all the way off and then let myself look at her.   
Really, really look at her.   
  
She was beautiful standing there in the soft lights, barely covered. Poised,   
truly confident, tender, mature. She had grown into everything that she   
always was when she didn't know it. Everything that I had been certain she   
would be someday. She was... amazing.   
  
Of course, I've always thought so.   
  
Her hand caressed my arm, the shoulder where my tattoo was, my face. She   
leaned up and kissed me lightly on the mouth. Her eyes were understanding   
and warm, loving.   
  
The felt a tiny shock of disbelief and gratefulness and warmth as I thought   
that, like I always do when I think it: She loves me.   
  
She led me to the bed and got under the covers, gesturing for me to follow.   
She faced me, wound her arms and legs through mine and around me until we   
were tangled together and then rested her head on my chest. I could feel her   
heartbeat against me, saw the scar on her neck that I caused all of those   
years ago.   
  
She loves me.   
  
I wanted to give her something that special, but all that I could think of to   
say was, "Buffy..."   
  
It came out a whisper, inane, completely inadequate.   
  
I felt her mouth curve up. "I love you too."   
* * * * * *   
  
I woke up abruptly, like I usually do, the moment the sun hit the horizon.   
Reaching for Buffy and not finding her there, I opened my eyes and saw her   
sitting at the small desk in the corner of her room, leaning over something.   
  
"What are you doing?"   
  
She jumped a little, startled, and then shot me a grin. "Couldn't sleep.   
Decided to write in my diary for a while."   
  
I got out of bed and stretched before making my way over to her. She shut   
the small book as I reached her and I laid my hands on her shoulders,   
kneading them lightly. "Same one you thought I read?" I asked, surprised at   
the laughter in my voice.   
  
"Same idea." She leaned back against me and looked up, giving me a glimpse   
of her amazing eyes again. "Different book. But yeah, I always seem to be   
writing something about you. I've missed you, Angel."   
  
I leaned down, brushing my mouth over hers. "I've missed you too."   
  
"Want to go back to bed for a while?" Buffy waggled her eyebrows and I   
chuckled.   
  
"Tease."   
  
She giggled. "To rest. Just to rest. Promise. I'm still a little tired.   
It's comforting being next to you, you know?"   
  
"Yeah." My hands slid through her hair. Buffy made a purring noise that   
made me smile. "I know what you mean."   
  
She slid her diary back into her desk drawer and stood, taking my hand. We   
walked back to the bed and got under the covers again and pressed as close as   
we were allowed to get to each other. And although she was smiling, she   
looked softer somehow, more sedate. A little sad.   
  
I kissed her temple. "What's wrong?"   
  
She hesitated a moment. "I'm nervous," she finally confessed. "Always get   
like this before a battle. It's not fun knowing that the fate of the world   
rests in my hands. It's an honor, but no fun in sight. Makes a girl feel   
less... Girly." She forced another laugh.   
  
I stroked her back, my mouth near her ear. "It'll be okay," I tried to   
reassure her. "It always turns out for the best. At least, it always has   
before. And I like those odds comparatively. I love you, and I'll be with   
you the whole time. So will everyone else. You'll have all of the support   
you can stand."   
  
This time her laugh sounded genuine but a yawn cut it short. "I'll see   
you... later in the morning, Angel."   
  
"Sweet dreams, Buffy." 


	23. The First Four

~Buffy: Who You Really Are~   
  
  
  
I felt like I was walking in slow motion when I entered Giles's apartment   
that afternoon. Angel had already arrived, getting there quicker through the   
tunnels. And when I walked in the door, I saw everyone's eyes land on me.   
  
And I was the Slayer.   
  
I could sense it in there stares as much as I felt it in myself. That's what   
they were thinking; the Slayer, the savior, the Chosen One. I guess after   
all of this, being Chosen isn't as bad as I've made it out to be.   
  
Because there have been moments... Moments where I've felt that that's all I   
was. Moments where I become nothing but the Slayer, where I figure out who I   
really am, deep inside where everything is hidden. Moments that I always   
forget until another hits me. They're deeply affecting, personal. They   
touch my heart in a way that hardly anything does.   
  
And this was one of those moments. I saw it in each of their faces.   
  
The slow-motion feeling faded and I smiled, dropping my purse on the couch.   
I crossed my arms over my breasts and raised my eyebrows, felt the small grin   
play with my mouth.   
  
"Hey guys. What's up?"   
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
~Giles: Everything You Fear~   
  
  
I recovered from the moment fairly quickly; shut my gaping mouth and returned   
Buffy's smile. In truth, I had been quite moved when she walked in the door.   
She had been moving with a quiet, certain grace-- she was sure of herself   
and calm and absolutely lovely. There have only been a few times in my   
relationship with Buffy that I've seen her move with such purpose, such   
definition, and it never ceased to amaze me.   
  
I nodded at her. "We're discussing Willow's spell," I explained.   
"Apparently, there are a few side effects that you'll perhaps need to know."   
  
"Like?"   
  
I looked at Willow, who turned to Buffy. "Nothing really big, I don't think.   
All of my research indicates that you might feel... Different, but it won't   
be anything harmful. It'll happen to all of us." She gestured around the   
room.   
  
Buffy paused for a moment. "Different how?"   
  
"Weightlessness, essentially. We won't be filling you with our spirits, but   
we will be enjoining the strength of our souls... Around you, basically, to   
protect you. I've read that it makes the fighter feel very light, feather   
light," Willow smiled. Her eyes twinkled and for a moment I saw her as I had   
when she was in high school-- young and playful and innocent. "The   
all-purpose diet."   
  
"Can I fight too then?" Cordelia spoke up, laughter in her voice. "I've been   
trying to lose--"   
  
"If you finish that sentence with any number of pounds, I'll kick you,"   
Xander warned with a small smile. "I really will. You're perfect."   
  
"As long as you realize it," she responded loftily, amused.   
  
And then I was hit with a wave of fear so strong that I clutched the chair I   
was standing beside for support. I realized in that second, looking at all   
of the faces in the world that meant something dear to me, that I could lose   
all of them. Even losing one of them would be like dying inside.   
  
And I think I'm still a bit too young for that.   
  
Yes, I think we all are.   
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
~Willow: Stepping Inside The Magic~   
  
  
You have to wonder what it's all about. Magic and science, life and death,   
passion and tenderness. Battles like these often bring about these   
questions. Questions that could go on forever. Questions that, even nearing   
thirty as I am, I have no idea how to answer.   
  
I guess I keep looking to the others for answers.   
  
Which I need to stop doing, I know. If there was one thing that my mother   
taught me it was to rely upon myself because I would be all I had when it   
came right down to the center of things. And I believe that, I do.   
Somewhere deep inside me...   
  
The problem is, I've never had to live it. I've always had such a strong   
support system of people who loved me, people who I've loved and people who   
I've been in love with, that the alone aspect hasn't really made any sort of   
sense. Even when I was blindly learning my way through magic and getting   
knocked unconscious nearly every day because of the power of it, it didn't   
make sense. Even now, as danger looms over our heads for the thousandth   
time, it doesn't make any sense.   
  
Because, they're not gone yet. Alone hasn't arrived. They're a part of me.   
  
Will I be alone someday? Maybe. Just another question I can't answer.   
  
There's always been a sort of magic that surrounded the seven of us. A   
chemistry that worked almost too well, that kept us alive time and again,   
that let the laughter keep us strong, that let the tears bind us closer.   
  
And I used that magic, that intimacy, in each and every one of my spells.   
Because it was what I drew my own strength from.   
  
I closed my eyes and exhaled, feeling each of my friends' unique energies   
fill the room.   
  
Tonight, I would step inside that magic. And it would work.   
  
It had to.   
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
~Xander: Prayers Of A Clown~   
  
  
I watched Willow sigh and wondered what she was thinking. There were tight,   
concentrated lines around her mouth and her eyes were closed. Was she   
thinking that it would all work out for the best? Was she thinking that we   
were all going to die by the time the sun came up?   
  
I wanted the be inside her thoughts again, like I had before when we shared   
the dream. I wanted that same level of comfort and peace that being her   
friend always gave me. The level of comfort and peace that I couldn't seem   
to achieve at the moment.   
  
Because I was afraid.   
  
I had tried to be strong. For Cordelia, for Willow, for Buffy. Strong for   
everyone who had always been strong for me. But my courage seemed to be   
crumbling, little by little as the minutes passed. Willow's spell sounded   
hard and I'd be the first to admit that I haven't had very good luck with   
magick. Besides, as I'm sure I'm not the only one who knows, little by   
little can be enough.   
  
We had to get through it, of course. Because otherwise... Otherwise what?   
We'd be breaking the tradition?   
  
I caught myself before I smiled, realizing immediately that this was nothing   
to smile at. Death was nothing to smile at. It took me a long time to   
realize that jokes don't solve everything, but I finally had and I wasn't   
going to try. Not even with myself.   
  
I half-listened to Giles as he talked about the coming fight, about where we   
would each be situated and how we were supposed to concentrate and how Buffy   
would be fighting and that we should all bring weapons even though we   
wouldn't be fighting and what weapons to bring and it all sank in, it did.   
But I didn't want it to. I wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted to be   
making love to Cordelia, alone with her away from here, her thighs wrapped   
around my hips, her breasts slick with saliva and sweat.   
  
Or laughing with Willow and Buffy. Hanging out with them, comfortable, maybe   
watching a movie that they'd be complaining about the entire way through but   
that they secretly liked. Flirting with them like I always have, hearing   
them giggle like nothing was wrong, like we were sixteen again.   
  
Hell, even Giles's lectures and Oz's silences and arguing with Angel sounded   
good, great, my idea of a perfect time.   
  
Well, the Cordelia thing was my favorite but we all have to make compromises.   
  
But I couldn't be doing any of those things. I was doing this. I had to do   
this. And I would never back away from something if it would help my   
friends.   
  
We all needed help at that moment.   
  
So, still keeping one ear on the conversation around me, I began my own. In   
my head. With God.   
  
Because even if prayer didn't help us much, I knew it couldn't hurt. 


	24. Side By Side

~Cordelia: When An Ice Princess Melts~   
  
  
I didn't let myself cry for a long time. Most of my childhood and   
high-school years consisted of my shallow friends and shallow fun. But   
then...   
  
Then I grew up.   
  
I actually used to pride myself on how I didn't let anything affect me, touch   
me. On how I didn't let anything in. And I'm not really sure when it   
happened-- whether it was falling in love with Xander or leaving him for LA   
or if it was later, when Wesley died-- all I know is that now the floodgates   
are open. Now I have a heart.   
  
And as much as it annoys me sometimes, I can't stop myself from using it. I   
think with it, let it rule me, which I suppose isn't the smartest thing to   
do, but it feels smarter. Feels cleaner. Like I should have been doing it   
all along. And now that I finally am... Well, I don't really know what I'm   
supposed to do with my feelings. I've told Xander that I love him but now   
what? Angel, Willow, Oz and Giles and Buffy? Am I supposed to approach them   
each individually and tell them how important they've been to my life? How   
much I love them?   
  
Yeah, sure. I'm not *that* fluffy.   
  
As if on cue, as if reading my mind, Giles cleared his throat. "I know we   
need to get to work but, ah, I wanted to say something that I'm sure I don't   
say often enough. I'm proud of you. Each one of you contributes something   
irreplaceable and I just wanted to let everyone know that I realize that.   
This battle isn't going to be easy-- they never were before-- but..."   
  
He paused for a moment, looking around the room. I felt his eyes land on me   
and I glanced up, warmed by the slight smile he flashed.   
  
"But," he repeated softly, removing his glasses and looking down at them,   
"I'm glad you're all here. I'm proud to know you. And I believe that we may   
just get through this."   
  
I felt suddenly cold at his last words, for some reason not believing them,   
and heard Buffy sniffle from her place on the couch. Maybe I wasn't the only   
one accepting Giles's vote of confidence.   
  
But then I felt Xander's hand slide up my thigh from where it was resting on   
my knee to take my hand. He squeezed and mouthed, 'I love you,' and looked   
at me with those beautiful hazel eyes of his and just like that, the ice   
around my heart melted. Just like that, with nothing but a tender touch from   
someone who loved me, I felt warm again.   
  
I felt like we could win.   
  
Because with people like the ones that surrounded me, how could we lose?   
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
~Oz: Choosing Your Mate~   
  
  
There was a certain energy in the room that afternoon. A fear or   
anticipation that pulsed in the atmosphere making each of our senses   
heightened, our emotions more tender, our personal powers more deeply felt.   
I was attuned to each of my friends as we sat around Giles's living room,   
contemplating our futures. I could smell the intimacy that surrounded us   
all, and the fright.   
  
But most especially, I could feel Willow.   
  
Wolves mate for life, I guess everyone knows that by now. But what people by   
and large don't know is that-- both primitively and logically speaking-- we   
choose that mate carefully. It has to be someone with whom we connect on the   
most personal level, someone who's company we enjoy, someone who we love.   
But most importantly, it has to be someone able to bring the underlying   
fierceness to the surface, someone who summons the need to protect, whether   
you mean regular wolves or the were-kind.   
  
Willow was the only one who represented all of these things to me, the only   
one who didn't expect me to be anyone but myself, whoever that was.   
  
I've always had a certain persona that, don't get me wrong, I did nothing to   
push away. But Willow, her friends-- my friends-- never expected that of me.   
I was simply Oz. And they liked me.   
  
*She* loved me.   
  
Which would make any man, wolf or not, feel like the most important man in   
the world. --Forget being President or Pope. You've got Willow Rosenberg,   
man!--   
  
Yes, I chose my mate. And I knew it would be for life. But the coolest   
thing-- the really amazing thing that still makes me shake with happiness   
when I looked at her even after all of these years-- is that when she knew it   
was for life, when I asked her to marry me, she chose me back. She said yes.   
  
And because it's for life, I won't ever be alone again. I'll never be   
without her, whether I'm alive or dead. Whether we're miles apart or in as   
close proximity as we were at that moment. And I wanted to tell her that as   
I looked at her, but then she smiled at me and for the millionth time since   
I've known her, I was struck speechless by her beauty and felt like the   
luckiest person alive because I got to see it every day.   
  
Then the moment where it was just Willow and me disappeared but, strangely   
enough, I didn't feel sorry. Because she was still there and so was it. It   
was just that everyone else had moved into the picture. And that was okay   
with me.   
  
It was okay with me because I realized in that second that I had mated with   
all of them in a way too. They were part of my pack. And I was part of   
theirs.   
  
And knowing that gave me a lot of hope.   
~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
~Angel: The Secrets Of Souls~   
  
  
In my years, I've perfected the habit of hearing everyone who speaks,   
everything that they say and everything that matters while not really paying   
any attention at all. I would know what I needed to know for the coming   
night but no, my eyes were focused elsewhere. Where they were always focused   
when I was around her. On Buffy.   
  
She seemed sort of sad, her eyes a melted shade of blue and green, luminous   
with tears as she paid rapt attention to what Giles was saying. And yet,   
behind the tears, there was a certain pride deep down. Something that I knew   
she wouldn't be sharing, secret thoughts that were just her own. Which was   
fine with me. ...Buffy and I have always kept our secrets from one another.   
It never mattered much; we always knew how the other felt and that was what   
was important.   
  
A small, secret sort of smile hovered around her lips, and she looked around   
the room fondly. I waited and when her eyes finally landed on mine, I smiled   
at her. My heart constricted when the smile evoked more tears. She reached   
out and placed her deceptively fragile hand in mine and held on tightly,   
harder than a human would have been able to take. Her lip trembled and I   
lifted my free hand to stroke her hair, brushing my knuckles across her   
cheek. Buffy shook her head at my unspoken question, keeping the small smile   
firmly on her face.   
  
It was overwhelming to me at times that it had been four long years since we   
had last seen each other. All of those days imagining her face a breath away   
from mine in anticipation of a kiss, all of those nights dreaming about the   
day that we lost, those special secret hours that never really existed though   
I can remember it all as clearly as if it just occurred. As a human, even as   
most of my time as a vampire, I had never believed in soul mates until I met   
Buffy.   
  
It was strange and amazing, our relationship. Finding my soul mate when I   
shouldn't even have a soul, finding the woman I was meant to be with who was   
born over two hundred years after I was. Meeting the one person who could   
give me true, total bliss and realizing that our love was forbidden in more   
ways than one.   
  
I'd never told her about the prophesy that said I would become human.   
Somehow, every time the words had been on my lips, my voice refused to speak   
them. Maybe it was because I knew it would hurt her too much, knowing that   
it was possible that I would become the thing we'd both wished for millions   
of times after she was gone.   
  
Maybe I never said anything because... Because it hurt me too much.   
  
And I didn't think, really, that I ever would. It was one of those secrets   
that we kept from each other. On one hand, I knew that she would want to   
know. And on the other, I knew that if she did it might kill her. Not   
telling her was the lesser evil, I supposed.   
  
And Giles talked on and I listened as I kept my eyes on Buffy. She looked   
back at me steadily, with those big eyes of hers, so full of wisdom and   
innocence all at once, and I heard the soft rhythm of her heart speed up a   
little as we stayed locked in our shared glance.   
  
And I wondered what secrets she was keeping from me. 


	25. The Last Minutes

~Waiting for the animals to die out and the Old Ones to reappear...~   
  
The sentence that Giles had spoken Buffy, Xander and Willow upon first   
meeting them wandered through his mind yet again, for what seemed the   
thousandth time that evening. And the sun had barely gone down.   
  
He shifted uncomfortably and Xander looked up at him from his place on the   
grass. The younger man raised his eyebrows. "You okay, G-Man?"   
  
Giles smiled faintly. For the first time since Xander had coined that rather   
annoying nickname, he didn't reprimand him for it. Instead he lifted his   
shoulders. "It's the tension of waiting, I think," he murmured vaguely,   
continuing to wave the burning herbs around the circle of salt Willow was   
spreading out.   
  
Xander didn't reply, choosing instead to silently add white rose petals to   
the small bowl of water and spices in the grass on Willow's cue. "White for   
what?" he asked quietly.   
  
"Purity," Willow explained, her voice slightly shaky. "It's our way of   
saying that we come with a pure heart..."   
  
Xander glanced at Cordelia and winked, still talking to Willow. "Speak for   
yourself."   
  
"The *other* kind of purity, Xander," Cordelia nervously laughed, her eyes   
darting around. After a moment they landed on Buffy and Angel, who were   
standing about forty feet away from them, speaking in soft tones. "What are   
they doing?"   
  
"It looks like they're talking," Giles said dryly.   
  
"I know that," Cordelia snapped. Then her voice faltered. "I only meant..."   
  
The Watcher nodded gently. "She hasn't fought a battle like this in years.   
I don't want to begrudge her a few minutes of peace before the chaos begins."   
  
"She does seem to go through a lot," Oz acknowledged, placing petals from a   
white carnation in the bowl, watching them for a moment as they floated in   
the water.   
  
Willow straightened, finishing the circle and glanced at the mismatched   
couple wistfully. "Yes..." She sighed. "I don't think it's too much to ask."   
* * * * *   
  
"I love you."   
  
"We seem to say that a lot when we're together, don't we?" Angel smiled.   
  
"Not enough," Buffy countered, her eyes locked on his. "I love you."   
  
"I love you too." He held her hands tightly; they were almost as cold as   
his. "Hey... We'll get through this, Buffy. I promise."   
  
She shook her head, exhaling heavily. "Don't make promises to me, Angel.   
They'll end up hurting both of us if you're wrong."   
  
He shook his head. "I'm not. Everything's going to be fine. It always has   
been before, right?"   
  
Her eyes were warm and sad on his, certain in her own conclusions. She   
laughed softly, then pressed her cheek to his chest in a tight embrace,   
winding her arms around his waist. "They always have been before," she   
echoed into his shirt. "Yes."   
  
Angel rubbed her back soothingly, trying to overcome the feeling of dread   
that had seeped into his heart as she touched him. After a moment she took a   
breath and then lifted her head up, snaking her arms around his neck and   
pulling his mouth down to meet hers. Their mouths were cold but the kiss and   
their hearts were not and he pulled her closer to him, sinking his tongue   
into the warm recesses of her mouth, tasting as much of her as he was   
allowed.   
  
She broke the kiss with a whimper of regret at having to get back to the real   
world and when she looked at him again, the tears were larger in her eyes,   
glistening, nearly ready to fall.   
  
She cleared her throat. "We should get back. See if we can help."   
  
"I know," he agreed, showing no inclination to move.   
  
The corner of her mouth lifted in a small smirk and she tugged on his hand,   
leading him back to the spot where the others were gathered. The rest of the   
group looked up in unison, their breath collectively caught in their throats   
for a split second before Xander grinned.   
  
"I was just about to complain about getting stuck with all the grunt work   
when you're the one with the super powers."   
  
Buffy winked, laughed. "Because tearing petals off a flower and dropping   
them into a bowl of water looks so tough. You'd need me."   
  
Willow touched her arm, her word sincere and breaking slightly in the middle.   
"Always."   
  
"Uh, Willow, are we nearly finished?" Giles interrupted, his eyes large.   
  
"Actually, we *are* finished," she said, "we just need to get in the circle   
so I can begin the incantation."   
  
"Then we'd better do it now." The Watcher said firmly but when he looked at   
Buffy for a moment, his gaze softened with love for her.   
  
Buffy tilted her head. "Why?"   
  
He gestured over her shoulder. "Because they're coming over the hill right   
now." 


	26. Protected

The group sat down quickly, and Willow took a deep breath. "If your eyes   
aren't closed," she instructed urgently, "They should be on the bowl. Keep   
your gaze on the bowl at all costs. Do *not* look at Buffy. It could kill   
us and it could kill her. Stay still. Stay quiet. Concentrate on what I   
say."   
  
Her hands shook slightly as she went on. "We pray to thee, Gods, hear our   
call. Combine our strengths to shroud the one in battle. Cover her,   
Spirits, with the unity of our circle. Enjoin us and make our strengths   
hers."   
  
The roar of vampires, the soft sounds of Buffy grunting, the shriek of demons   
disintegrating into dust pierced the air.   
  
Sweat beaded Willow's forehead as she continued. Xander trembled. Tears   
slipped from Cordelia's eyes. Oz clenched his hands into fists. Angel and   
Giles looked stubbornly at the bowl, not willing to let the pain of   
concentration mar Buffy's chance at survival.   
  
~Do *not* look at Buffy... Do *not* look at Buffy.~   
* * * * * *   
  
Buffy was in the middle of an onslaught. Vampires came at her from every   
which way, dust clogged her lungs and stung her eyes. Stubbornly, she kept   
moving, working her way through the crowd of them. No funny words, no puns,   
just simple stakings in every direction as she tried to make her way to the   
grave across the cemetery.   
  
It was happening there.   
  
She didn't know exactly what, but something wriggled in the back of her mind,   
waiting to be recognized and remembered. Something... And that something was   
happening at that very moment.   
  
Another staking, and another. Breathe, move forward.   
  
Two vampires came at her back, stupidly howling with gusto-- didn't they know   
that she could hear them coming?-- and she quickly spun and ducked, tripping   
the first one so he tumbled over her head in a clumsy heap. She sprung up   
fast, flipping in a neat somersault over the second, and staked him in the   
back before he realized that she was no longer in front of him.   
  
As the first groaned and began to get up, she kneed him in the chin and when   
he fell back down, slid her hand in a smooth arch downward, letting the stake   
give death yet again.   
  
She kept moving. ~Always keep moving. Can't stop. Keep moving.~   
  
Most of the vampires were minions, newly raised and inexperienced. Easy   
kills. But there were some... She could feel the power coming off of them.   
They were older. Not quite as old as the Master, maybe-- she was pretty sure   
that there were even a couple younger than Angel-- but still old enough to   
stay out of her way as they tried to....   
  
Tried to what? The thought slipped from her mind again as she staked another   
vamp. The crunch of leaves behind her alerted her and she swung around,   
catching the fist that was rapidly nearing her face. Mechanically, she   
twisted the wrist until she heard a loud snap and then kicked the inside of   
the vampire's leg outwards, effectively breaking his knee. She grabbed his   
hair with one hand as he went down, holding him up, and with the other hand   
reached behind herself and took hold of the small battle ax strapped to her   
back and swung it around, beheading him. His blood stained her face before   
he dissipated but she didn't stop to wipe it away before she began moving   
again.   
  
She smiled as she embedded her stake into still another vampire's chest.   
  
~Now *this* is just like old times.~   
  
And then there was peace for a moment as the vamps backed off, still   
surrounding her, but only eyeing her warily. They were ready to attack, of   
course, even ready to die for what was happening tonight. But were they as   
ready as she was?   
  
In the sudden stillness, she caught a glimpse of the older vampires, still a   
few hundred feet away from her and guarded by many. One of them, the oldest   
she knew, sprinkled water on the ground until the dirt sizzled and smoked.   
Another read from a scroll and some chanted at the appropriate intervals.   
  
And then the fog cleared from her mind and she remembered, remembered that   
they were trying to raise the Old Ones, remembered that the future of the   
world rested in her fighting hands upon that night and moment. Her eyebrow   
cocked and she started moving again.   
  
~Keep moving. No matter what you do, keep moving. Keep moving.~   
* * * * *   
  
"Shouldn't you be able to, like, see her in the bowl or something?" Cordelia   
gritted out, pain etched across her face.   
  
"You're the psychic," Willow pointed out, her voice rough. "Now shut up."   
  
Steam rose off the bowl as it worked its magick on all of them, on Buffy, and   
the water sparkled from a light that seemed to exist underneath it, making   
the petals that drifted on top seem to glow. Willow started whispering in   
Latin, letting all of her strength leave her body to bind the spell.   
  
Giles sucked in his breath.   
  
And then everyone who had been closing their eyes opened them and looked at   
the bowl, where the petals of the two flowers were beginning to float.   
  
They dripped water and shined in the dim moonlight, luminescent, and twirled   
gracefully through the air. Slowly, piece by piece, petal by petal, they   
began to come together. One here and one there and soon they were in the   
shape of a flower. Neither rose nor carnation but somehow both, the most   
beautiful aspects of each, hovered in the air above the bowl of water,   
droplets falling off of them like diamonds.   
  
"It's working," Willow sighed in relief, her shoulders sagging, her gaze on   
the flower. "It's really working. She's protected."   
  
Angel's mouth tightened at that as he looked at the piece of artistry before   
them, and he nodded to himself, catching the tears filling his eyes before   
they fell.   
  
~She's protected.~ 


	27. For Every Day

Her muscles ached, tightening, as she finished with the minions and worked   
her way over to the older vampires, the masters of this sect. She ran, but   
the seconds ticked away slowly, the trees passing not in a blur but instead   
looking quiet and serene, out of place in this gory battlefield.   
  
Buffy knew how it was going to end. She smiled, her heavy footfalls bringing   
her closer to the last minute of this fight. She knew exactly how it was   
going to end.   
  
She was going to save the world.   
  
She reached the group of vampires at long last and with a grunt, swiftly took   
down two of the burly guards. The rest of them looked up in startled   
silence, save the ones spreading the water on the ground and the tall,   
magnificent looking one holding up the scroll.   
  
In the quiet, the surprised stillness, Buffy grinned. "Hey everyone. Sorry   
I'm late."   
* * * * * *   
  
"She's safe?" Xander asked, his voice barely audible for fear that he would   
break the spell.   
  
"She's protected," Willow clarified, staring at the floating flower that was   
poised precariously in the air. "As protected as we can make her. But we   
can't ensure her total safety, so just try to concentrate."   
  
"Sorry," he apologized shakily, closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply, then   
exhaled, wanting nothing more than to look over at Buffy and see how she was   
doing, but not allowing himself the comfort.   
  
Her voice sank into each of their minds, the grunts and shouts of her fight.   
A demon shrieked as she killed it, and Xander supposed that would have to be   
comfort enough.   
* * * * * *   
  
"You're too late, Slayer," the tall, stately one said calmly. "This is it."   
He smiled, assured of his fortune, as he began spilling the rest of the water   
onto the ground. The dirt hissed horribly as it soaked up the liquid, and   
Buffy turned wide eyes to the smiling demon.   
  
"I won't let you do this, you know," she said evenly. The head vampire's   
eyebrow raised at her own confidence, and nodded after a moment.   
  
"I would hope for nothing less than you trying to stop it to the death," he   
conceded, a tinge of admiration on his voice.   
  
They were at a stalemate. Buffy waited for something to happen, something to   
show her what to do, and the vampires around her kept smiling.   
  
She hated their smiles. Wanted to kick them off their smug faces.   
  
Slowly, a gray mist began rising from the ground, twisting around itself,   
alive in its own right. It headed toward three of the oldest, slipping over   
their skin quickly moving over their chests and pausing, ready to sink into   
the space that the absence of their souls had left.   
  
And then Buffy knew. Knew how stupid they had all been, because it was   
really all so simple. So easy.   
  
She just had to kill them before the power took hold.   
  
Leaping forward, she kicked the one with the scrolls in the neck, causing him   
to stumble backward, desperately clutching at the mist resting over his   
unbeating heart. As he hit the ground, she viciously shoved the stake into   
his chest, her eyes glazed with the lust of the kill as he shattered into   
dust.   
  
And then the mist that had been about to fill him darted into her chest,   
knocking her off her own feet. She yelled in shock as her back hit the   
ground, looking down at herself in amazement. No pain.   
  
Power.   
  
Doing a backwards somersault, she flipped over and onto her feet before she   
took a breath. The chanting vamp came at her, game face in place, growling.   
She leaned down before he reached her and moved two steps to the side,   
grabbing his foot as he ran past and yanking him back, making him fall with a   
thump onto his face. She stepped on the small of his back, and with a quick   
twist of the wrist, dusted him as well.   
  
Turning to face the third, Buffy smiled to herself as the gray mist filled   
her again. She remained on balance, and in control. Maybe the dreams were   
wrong, she thought, hope suddenly filling her. She felt good. She felt   
ready.   
  
But she didn't see the sword.   
* * * * *   
  
In unison, the group looked up and away from the bowl, looked frantically for   
Buffy, when her scream of pain tore through the night. As their eyes darted   
away from the bowl, in that split second their concentration slipped, the   
petals from the amazing, magical flower began to fall.   
  
The spell had been broken.   
  
Realizing this instantly, Angel was up and running before any of the others   
could scramble to their feet. Pain that he had never felt contorted his   
features into that of a vampire's, and he watched in helpless horror what was   
happening to Buffy, still hundreds of yards away from her.   
  
The sword had been rammed through her belly, no doubt piercing her spine. As   
she stumbled forward, her stake slipped into the last vampire's chest and   
before he even turned to dust, she was falling to the ground.   
  
Angel sped up. ~Going too slow. Going too *fucking* slow!~   
  
She hit the ground hard, looking down at her stomach in shock. Angel finally   
reached her, staring as she used her last bit of strength to pull the sword   
from inside her, and let it drop from her hands.   
  
The scent of her blood filled his nostrils as it slipped from her body and   
consecrated the still-steaming earth beneath her. The hissing stopped and   
there was a moment of such startling hush. "No," he whispered.   
  
It was the only thing he could say.   
  
Her blood changed it all. Covered the ground in healing powers, making the   
night safe again. It had always been said that the pure would save the   
world. Angel had always just prayed that this wouldn't be how.   
  
The mist from the third demon took its time but finally reached her and   
slipped in, soothing, comforting, taking away the pain. Angel gathered her   
limp body in his arms, brushing back her bloody hair with a bloody hand.   
  
Buffy's eyes fluttered open. "Angel," she murmured, a smile touching her   
lips.   
  
He no longer tried to hide his tears; they ran down his face unchecked and   
fell onto hers. But still she smiled.   
  
"It's... It's going to be okay, Buffy," he finally told her urgently. "We're   
going to get you to a hospital and everything will be all right. Just hold   
on."   
  
Weakly, she shook her head. "Spike was wrong, you know," she said sadly. "I   
don't want to die."   
  
Angel stared at her silently, not knowing what she was talking about and not   
knowing how to respond.   
  
Buffy gasped for breath painfully and then continued, her eyes on his in a   
steady gaze. "I'm not sorry, though, Angel. Because I love you. It was   
for..." She coughed and blood streaked her lips, "It was for you, you know?   
For all of them. For every day."   
  
"Buffy," he wept, "Please just hold on. Please don't leave me. Not when...   
Please don't leave. ...I love you."   
  
"Yes," she said. Her eyes were calm at last, no longer full of the torment   
that had been with her for over half of her life. "Yes."   
  
And then she was gone.   
  
As her eyes closed for the final time, her name ripped from his throat, a   
scream of the deepest sort of grief. Uselessly, he held her tightly, rocking   
her back and forth, half-insane from the knowledge that this was final. That   
she was gone.   
  
She was gone.   
  
The others approached tentatively. Oz and Cordelia gripped hands tightly.   
Giles stared blankly at the scene in front of him, not really understanding;   
not wanting to understand. Willow tried to breathe, gasped desperately for   
breath, but it didn't seem to come although some hidden logical part of her   
knew it must be. And Xander shook his head, denying everything that he knew   
to be true, everything that he was seeing to be true as some sort of   
nightmare, a nightmare that he thought he had gotten rid of a long time ago.   
  
But none of it worked. None of it made her sit up and smile. None of it   
could make her live again.   
  
After nearly fifteen years of fighting darkness, the Slayer had died. 


	28. Snowfall

It snowed the day they buried Buffy.   
  
Furiously the snowflakes came down; this was no peaceful snowfall but instead   
a harsh reminder of everything they had lost. Silent tears froze on their   
faces; no one could take their eyes off the modest casket as it was being   
lowered into the ground. Still no one could believe that this had happened,   
that it was true.   
  
They held hands, hoping for some comfort in their friends but finding none to   
spare from anyone on that cruel day.   
  
Her marker read, "Buffy Summers, 1981-2009. Loved by many and Chosen by all."   
* * * * *   
  
"Why didn't it save her?" Willow asked.   
  
Giles lifted his shoulders helplessly. "I don't know. The spell that the   
vampires were casting should have filled her with the oldest power when she   
killed them, and because Buffy was on the side of good, it should have... It   
should have..."   
  
"It did," Angel said quietly, from the corner. "It was a mist that filled   
her when she staked that final vampire. Maybe the power didn't help her like   
we thought it would. But... But she wasn't in pain, Giles. As soon as it   
touched her body, the pain was gone from her face."   
  
Giles winced at the word pain and then looked around the room. Everyone   
shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, like children caught doing something   
they weren't supposed to.   
  
Angel continued, "When she... She was everything that was good. I saw it in   
her eyes. She was everything that she had always been, brought to its full   
potential. And she..."   
  
Xander and Willow stood and the same moment, shaking their heads. They   
looked at each other for a moment and then left Giles's apartment separately,   
heading in different directions. After a moment of surprise, Oz and Cordelia   
got up and followed them out.   
  
Giles took off his glasses and wearily rubbed at his eyes, sitting heavily in   
a chair.   
  
Angel opened his mouth to speak, but Giles held up his hand, gesturing for   
him to stay silent. "Goodbye, Angel," he muttered, his voice not brooking   
any arguments.   
  
Angel stood there for a moment, sadness on his features, and then was gone.   
  
And Giles buried his face in his hands.   
* * * * *   
  
Xander was silent on the ride home. The few times Cordelia tried to talk to   
him, he would look at her sideways and she shut up. So instead she settled   
for reaching over and taking his hand, holding it tightly, telling him in her   
own way that she was there and that she loved him.   
  
When they got home, he went inside and turned on the television. Staring   
blankly at it, his mouth remained closed, his eyes distant.   
  
Hours were spent like this.   
  
Cordelia finally sighed and approached him. "Xander..."   
  
He looked at her again, angrily, but his eyes softened when he saw the tears   
in her own. "What is it?"   
  
"It's not going to be like this forever," she assured him, rubbing his knee.   
"It'll get better. And I'm going to be with you for the whole thing. If you   
want to cry, you can cry. If you want to scream or yell, I won't leave. I   
love you."   
  
He exhaled heavily and turned off the TV, taking her in his arms. She placed   
her cheek against his shoulder, comforted by his touch, hoping hers was doing   
the same for him. "No, it won't be this bad forever," he murmured, as a   
promise. "It won't be."   
  
But somehow his words were empty. He didn't believe them.   
  
Because he was sure they were a lie.   
* * * * * *   
  
Willow and Oz entered their apartment, everything that they weren't saying   
hanging over their heads like a curse. Willow dropped her keys onto the   
coffee table and sat down, propping her feet up, looking down at her nails.   
  
After a moment, she admitted, "I don't really know what I'm supposed to do   
now... I mean, half of my life, I've been committed to helping..." She shook   
her head.   
  
~I won't say her name. I won't. I *can't.*~   
  
"I know, Baby." Oz sank down next to her, on the couch. "I see how you're   
hurting. I'm hurting too, and I know it can't compare, but if there's   
anything that I can do, just tell me and I will."   
  
He laid his hand over hers and Willow flinched, pulling away from him. She   
scooted over a few inches so that there was more space between them, and when   
she looked at him, her eyes were helpless. "I- I'm sorry."   
  
"No," he shushed her, "Don't be. Just... Whenever you need me."   
  
"Got it." She managed a tight smile, and they both slipped into silence   
again, staring into space.   
  
Into nothing.   
* * * * * *   
  
Angel walked through Buffy's apartment reverently, touching little items here   
and there. Mr. Gordo, her stuffed pig; her collection of bad ice-skating   
movies; pictures of her and her friends that hung on the wall-- a lonely one   
of him on her nightstand. She had shined so bright in those pictures, even   
days ago. So beautiful...   
  
He sat down on her bed and picked up the sweater that had been left on her   
floor when he had taken it off of her a few days prior. Lifting it to his   
nose, he inhaled deeply and then shuddered as her scent surrounded him,   
filling his senses. Keeping the sweater tightly in his hands, almost as if   
it were his lifeline, he stood and looked around. He didn't quite know what   
to do.   
  
Didn't know how to say goodbye.   
  
He sat down at her desk, a faint smile lifting his mouth as his eyes locked   
on a picture taken over ten years before, before things had gotten   
complicated, when their love was still new and fresh and the whole world lay   
in front of them. It was of the whole group, right before Buffy's   
seventeenth birthday party. They were smiling at the camera, on the steps of   
the library, happy.   
  
Who had taken that picture? he wondered for a moment, not remembering, and   
then let the thought slip from his mind. It didn't matter. What mattered   
was that day; that perfect day when everything was right with the world.   
  
He was sure it would never be right again.   
  
Opening her desk drawer, he sucked in some unneeded breath as he noticed her   
stack of diaries lying inside. Years of her life were contained in those   
pages and on a slip of paper on the top of them was a note that read, "For   
Angel."   
  
Tentatively, feeling slightly sick, he lifted the one on the top, her most   
recent, and began flipping through the pages. Some entries made him smile,   
"After almost fifteen years of friendship, I've finally gotten to see   
Xander's Snoopy dance. Willow forced him to do it for me, of course, but I   
don't care why he did it, all I care is that he did." Some made him ache for   
her, "I thought of Angel today. From nowhere, his smile came into my head   
and I began crying because I missed him so much. I managed to talk to Cordy   
about him... Didn't tell her why I was asking the questions and I know she's   
curious but I actually am, too. Sometimes I think I'm over him and other   
times I realize how full of bullshit I really am."   
  
But the last one made him pause.   
  
He read it carefully, and then again, not letting his eyes miss a single   
syllable that had been written down. He could only assume that she had known   
he would find these, that she wanted him to have them.   
  
After reading her last entry a third time, he touched the pages lingeringly,   
his eyes sad and accepting. "Okay, Buffy," he said to himself, to the room,   
in the off chance that she could hear him.   
  
Her voice slipped through his mind, caressing him. "Yes."   
  
He smiled, not wanting to smile but not being able to hold it in with that   
touch from her. She could always make him smile. And now, he would do what   
he knew she wanted.   
  
Because he loved her, and them.   
  
That's what the whole thing was about, after all. 


	29. Epilogue: The Flower

"Is this a trap?" Willow said warily. "Which of you sent the letter? Who   
ever did was... Mean."   
  
"I thought... I thought perhaps you sent it," Giles said hesitantly. "Not   
that I was assuming you were mean. Not at all. Just that you might need to   
purge...." He trailed off, not knowing what to say.   
  
"We thought you sent it too, Will," Xander said, clutching Cordelia's hand   
tightly.   
  
Oz glanced at Willow with raised eyebrows and then turned back to the rest of   
the group. "Well, I didn't send it and I know Willow didn't... Angel?"   
  
"Yes, where is he?" Giles mumbled, looking around. "It could have been him,   
I suppose. We haven't... That is to say...."   
  
"Buffy sent it," Angel said quietly, stepping out of the shadows.   
  
Tears filled Willow's eyes and Oz put his arm around her, clutching her to   
him tightly. She sniffled, her expression full of muted rage. "That's   
cruel, Angel."   
  
"It's true." He sat down at the edge of Buffy's grave, stroking the grass   
lovingly. "I just copied it added the time to meet here at the bottom. I   
have some things that I want to say to you all. I... I'm sorry I was so   
mysterious about it, but considering... Well, I wasn't sure any of you would   
come if you knew it was from me, and I needed to speak with you."   
  
Xander was the first to step forward, to sit down next to Angel. "What?"   
  
Angel smiled painfully at him before turning his eyes up to the rest of the   
group. Willow wiped away some of her tears with a trembling smile and sat   
across from them, pulling Oz down with her. Cordelia and Giles exchanged a   
look, and then they were part of the circle, sitting on the grass over where   
Buffy laid. When he was sure that they were listening, when the silence   
began to hurt too much, Angel spoke.   
  
"I found this letter a month ago," he admitted. "I didn't want to believe   
that Buffy was right. I didn't want to see... Now, I've always been the   
outsider in this group. I know that. I don't resent it or anything, it's   
simply a fact. Most likely the way it should be. But you guys are my   
friends, and I don't have many. I don't like to think that anything could   
happen to you. Any of you. So when I saw that she was right, that..."   
  
"She wasn't right," Willow denied in a small voice, picking at the ground.   
  
"Willow." Angel's voice was firm. "I've been watching all of you. It's   
been over a month since her death and you've drifted away from each other.   
Even you, Willow, and Oz. Even Xander and Cordelia. Where did the wedding   
plans go? And Giles. Even after the Hellmouth was closed, you called each   
of them all of the time. What happened? Are you going to tell me that   
Buffy-- who loved you all so much-- tore your friendships apart when she   
died? Or are you just going to admit that you've been cowards?"   
  
Giles flashed a steely, angry glare to Angel. "I'm sorry that you don't feel   
the pain of her death like we d--"   
  
"Don't finish that sentence, Giles." Xander's voice was quiet, but firm.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Just don't." The dark-haired man shook his head quietly. "You're not mad   
at Angel. You know that Angel feels it maybe worse than the rest of us, if   
it's possible. You know that he loved her as much as anyone can love   
someone. So don't. He's..."   
  
"Right," Willow supplied softly. She blinked back her tears. "He's right   
that we've drifted away. Oz and I can't touch each other the way that we   
used to... It doesn't seem right to either of us, I'm guessing, to feel   
passion or... Anything when she's gone. And I haven't called Cordelia or   
you, Giles. And... Xander..." Her voice broke.   
  
"I know your grief is hard to deal with," Angel murmured. "Mine is too. In   
all my years, I never thought I would be able to feel this kind of loss.   
I've felt pain and regret for so long that I was sure that nothing could be   
worse. But no one can live with such grief on top of such loneliness. Buffy   
was a lot of a things; daughter, sister, lover, friend... And not one of you   
has really spoken about her since she died."   
  
Willow continued weeping and Cordelia slowly rose, walking over to the   
shaking redhead. She slipped down beside her and took Willow in her arms,   
letting her own tears go. "I miss her too," Cordelia mumbled. "I miss her   
too. And so does he. You need to be with him, Willow. Please... He needs   
to..."   
  
Willow didn't bother asking who she was talking about, simply choosing to   
pull out of the embrace. She touched Oz lightly, lovingly on the shoulder   
before standing. She moved over to Xander's side, who was looking off into   
the distance, his eyes vague. Slowly, the first two Slayerettes caught eyes   
and slipped into each other's arms. Xander stiffened for a moment, but as   
soon as he was holding Willow, he broke. Gut-wrenching, dry sobs tore out of   
him and he gasped for air. "Oh, God," he said, his voice low and raspy.   
"Oh, God. Please no."   
  
Willow buried her face in his shoulder, soaking it with her tears.   
"Giles..." she called pleadingly through her tears, relieved when the   
ex-Watcher moved over to them. Without hesitation, Giles wrapped his arms   
around both of them, cradling them to him warmly. Comforting and being   
comforted. Loving and being loved. Mourning the loss of his daughter, and   
rejoicing in the reunion of his family. Their quiet sounds of weeping filled   
the quiet cemetery, and Angel smiled with relief.   
  
He had just wanted to do this one thing for her before he left. Just this   
one thing to bring her family together, so that he would know that she would   
have peace. Oz and Cordelia quickly joined the group hug after it was   
assembled and Angel smiled more widely. All of them. How Buffy would have   
loved to have been a part of that hug.   
  
Finally their tears resided and they pulled away from each other, laughing   
slightly with pleasure. The hurt might subside some in time, they realized,   
looking at each other. If they stayed together.   
  
Giles turned and saw Angel's retreating back. Without thinking, he called   
out to the vampire. "Angel!"   
  
Angel paused mid-step and turned around, his eyes questioning.   
  
Giles smiled. "What did you love about Buffy?"   
  
Angel grinned, letting the tears slip down his cheeks. He walked back over   
to the group, who waiting in expectant silence for his answer. He thought   
for a moment. "I loved how she wore her heart on her sleeve. Even if she   
wouldn't tell you what she was thinking about, you could see right away if   
she was happy or sad or upset. I always knew where I stood with her. She   
loved me when I didn't deserve it." He distractedly wiped some of his tears   
away. "What about you guys?"   
  
The group lowered themselves back down onto the grass and were quiet for a   
moment. Angel sat, too, looking around, waiting for someone to speak.   
  
Finally, Xander did. "Her eyes. I think that's why I used to have such a   
crush on her, you know? She had those big, pretty eyes. Made me want to   
protect the person who didn't really need protection."   
  
"She was a good friend," Willow said softly, warmly. "She taught me a lot   
about myself, you know? Even up until... She died, she was teaching me. She   
always said that I was the smart one, but she had smarts that I still can't   
even comprehend. She was so loyal. She made me feel good about myself."   
  
"She was completely disobedient," Giles smiled. "At first I hated that about   
her, then grew to love it. It was what set her apart. What gave her a   
personality. She had so much character. She was so generous with her love,   
with her forgiveness. The people she loved came first, and her duty came   
second."   
  
Cordelia laughed suddenly. "She was one of the only people-- Xander excluded   
because I like to exclude him-- who could match me shot for shot. She always   
gave it as good as she got it and I have to admit that sometimes I was   
horrible to her. But she was still my friend. She looked past it and was my   
friend. I respected her a lot."   
  
Oz smiled, squeezed Willow's hand. "Buffy and I would sometimes talk about   
what it was like. You know, to be the way we were. As accepting as you all   
are-- which, by the way, is appreciated-- she understood. She had a part of   
that in her too. A part of that 'I can't change who I am,' thing going for   
her. And she was strong. Really strong."   
  
"Strong," Angel whispered. He nodded. "She was strong."   
  
And they talked through until it was almost sunrise. Laughing and crying   
over the best and worst times they had shared with Buffy. Missing her   
together and wishing that they could see her again. Smiling at some of the   
things that she had done since she had known them. Loving her, and each   
other. Healing together.   
  
A few minutes before the sun rose, Angel stood. No one questioned where he   
was going; they simply threw him smiles and turned back to their conversation   
about Buffy's fight with some vampire named Sunday, and Angel began to walk   
away. His soul felt lighter than it had in a long time, as light as it could   
without being taken away.   
  
He missed her, yes. But he had done something she had wanted, and anyway...   
  
They would all meet again someday.   
* * * * * * * *   
  
Dear... All of You,   
  
I'm not going to come out of this alive. I know that now. I've been having   
dreams, you see. Dreams of my own death. I know we will win-- we always   
do-- but when the triumph is done, I won't be there to celebrate with you.   
  
I'm giving this letter to Angel, knowing that he'll find it someday and give   
it to you. Because I'm not just having dreams about myself. I'm having   
dreams about what will happen after I die. It's cool. Sort of like being   
psychic without the head-splitting migraines. Anyway, in my dreams, I see   
you all.   
  
But what scares me is that I see you separated.   
  
I don't want my death to tear you apart. Mourn for me, yes, if you have to.   
Love me forever, I hope. But don't let your grief get in the way of our   
family. Because that's what you guys were to me. My family. My dearest   
friends and closest confidants. Meeting you was the best thing that could   
have happened to me. Ever. Please don't forget about one another because   
it's too painful to remember.   
  
Do you want to know how I see us? I see us as petals. All petals of the   
same perfect flower. Just because one of the petals wilts and drifts down   
doesn't make the flower any less beautiful than it was. When I look down on   
you, I want to see the beauty that I saw in my life. I want to see the   
closeness that made my life worth living.   
  
I had such a good life.   
  
Thank you all for that.   
  
I love you,   
  
Buffy 


End file.
